Promise of Forever
by Catheryne
Summary: Chuck/Blair, Dan/Serena, Nate/Vanessa. Historical AU. Lord Charles promised Nate that he would retrieve his fiance. He meant to keep the promise until he falls for Lady Blair himself.
1. Chapter 1

Promise of Forever

Pairing: **Chuck/Blair**, Dan/Serena, Nate/Vanessa

Summary: The plan was set. Nate and Blair were headed for life together, until an accident changes the course of their lives, and Chuck sets out to correct the problem and falls off the path himself.

AN: This is AU, but I'm trying to maintain the basic characterizations of GG that we are all familiar with. Of course, given that this is historical romance, expect some general plots of the genre to also appear here.

_My lord Nathaniel,_

_It has been three long years since your father, Lord Archibald, has taken you to France for a visit. I understand that you have much business to attend to, and so it is difficult for you to come to me. I write to you now because of this news I've heard from my maman. I dare not write of your family scandal lest my letter fall into the hands of those who wish you harm. My fervent hope if that you are well, and this news hasn't cast a permanent cloud over your days. Remember, I am here for you. _

_I too am struggling with this news. Isn't it odd that events from your life can still affect me so, with all the years that we have not met and the large distance between us? My maman wishes to break off our engagement for fear of repercussions. I do not wish it so, and I am fearful of the day she marries me off to one of the men who express their suit only for the money that my father has left as my dowry._

_I await the day you save me from this inevitable punishment._

_Truly,_

_B_

The carriage shook unsteadily as they rode through the cobbled streets, making the read difficult and long. After receiving the letter, Nathaniel Archibald had been concerned. His fiancé, a lovely little girl with dark hair and full lips, had written to him over the decade that they had been engaged. However, since he had gone to boarding school, he had not received a note from her.

"A love letter?" came the voice of his best friend, Charles Bass—or Chuck as he was fondly known, with whom he had struck a fast friendship with in the university. The other man had only just arrived from America, on what his father called a Sabbatical and what Chuck had termed his exile after having been found in bed with the wife of his father's solicitor. It could have been easily shoved aside had they not been found by the solicitor himself, as well as the older man's entire dinner party.

Nathaniel looked up and noticed the wry curve of the other man's lips, indicating that Chuck found humor at the prospect. "A note from my fiancé."

Chuck snatched the letter from Nate's hand. When Nate protested, Chuck held up a hand. After reading, Chuck folded up the paper and handed it back to Nate. "A damsel in distress. I would be sorely disappointed if she were not pretty. Only pretty ladies have the right to sound so helpless."

Nate shook his head, smiling at the memory of the young girl, at age eight, who gave him a flower the moment he and his father got off their carriage at her French estate. "Nathaniel," his father had pronounced happily when Blair gave them a sweet smile, "meet your future wife. Lady Blair, comment ca va?"

And the little girl had blushed prettily, obviously already enamored with the boy they were signing her life to. "Wonderful, Lord Archibald," she had replied in her clipped English. "I've been practicing my Anglais."

"As well you should," Lady Anne had said, as Nate's mother stepped off the carriage with the help of her husband. "You will be living in England with Nathaniel very soon."

Nate smiled at the memory of the little girl who looked at him with adoring eyes. As a child himself, at ten years old, he was merely irritated by the utter devotion in her eyes then. He glanced at his best friend who was lounging in the cushioned seat in front of him, who had, since he had known him, moved from woman to woman in the upper to middle rings of London Society. Had Charles Bass not been the only son and heir of Lord Bartholomew Bass, ninth Earl of Estershire, his reputation would have been ruined long before. And so Nate understood the mild cynicism in his best friend's response. To which, he replied, "Little Blair Waldorf was a pretty child."

Chuck arched an eyebrow. "A pretty little child?"

"We were engaged when I was ten and she was eight. The last time I saw her, at fifteen, she was a stick figure with hair that seemed too big for her frame," he related. "I should come for her before her mother sells her off to the highest bidder."

"A lot can change from fifteen to eighteen, Nathaniel," Chuck drawled. "Aren't you curious to see if she had filled up in the right womanly places?" With a playful smirk, he followed, "Or if she has turned into a horrid figure of a woman, so you might start finding a new bride of your own choosing, someone warm and soft and a perfect companion for your bed."

A little amused by the predictable turn of conversation, Nate shook his head. "I don't think of Lady Blair like that. She is a respectable young woman. Her letters have taken me through the deadest days in school." Nate leaned back in his seat. "Besides, there are taverns for those kinds of wenches."

Chuck grinned at his best friend, then nodded towards the folded up letter. "Then off we go tonight to celebrate your departure. Get the girl and install her in your country home, then come back to the city and live your life."

"Chuck, it wouldn't be like that," Nate protested.

"That's what you think,' Chuck told him with a wry voice. "Come on, Nathaniel. You've seen your father and mine."

"My father was a weak man," Nate offered. "It's too easy to fall prey to temptation with his nature." Nate looked out the window as they traveled along the docks. "I leave for France tonight."

"A tad hasty, don't you think, to come running to the girl hours after reading her letter? You would trade her for me—your best friend who had only just come back from exile?" asked Chuck.

Nate glanced quickly at his friend and noted the humor in his eyes, then grinned. "I'm sure you can think of something to occupy your time."

Chuck broke into a grin, then reached over and patted his best friend on the back. "Go and fetch the ball and chain and I will be waiting here waiting for your return, with a ball and two—no, three willing women at your disposal."

"I may love you more than my bride, Chuck," Nate teased.

The dark haired man made a face of disgust and pulled away. "Let's not get carried away," he said, chuckling.

The knock was rapid, and unexpected at that time of the night. With a glass of fine brandy in his hand, Chuck opened the door of his bedroom in only his silk pants. He frowned when he saw his stepsister, still in her bedrobe, appearing frantic and concerned. There were very few moments when Serena van der Woodsen appeared less than enchanting.

"Serena," he greeted, his voice smooth, unhurried in the hopes of affecting calmness in her.

"There's someone here to see you, Chuck."

"Have you started answering the door as a pastime, sister?" he drawled.

Her beautiful face crumpled. "It's Lord Nathaniel."

He frowned. "Jasper knows to let Nate in anytime. Is he waiting at the foyer?"

She shook her head. Her voice dropped. "There's a—a woman downstairs. They won't let her in because she—she's not—They won't let her in. But she's distraught, Chuck. And I heard her briefly when I checked the commotion. Nate—she says he's been stabbed at the docks." Serena burst into tears for the family friend.

Chuck set his jaw and stalked out of the room, pushing Serena aside and broke into a half run down the stairs. He arrived at the door just as the butler was closing it. The old man appeared surprised at Chuck's appearance, and Chuck could understand the shock. He must have appeared half mad with a drink in his hand and only in his pajama pants.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

Jasper bowed and told him, "I've sent the young woman away, milord."

"Why did no one call for me?" He did not wait for an answer, accepting that it would be unfair to expect another response to an event that usually happened anyway. Women had come knocking before, searching for Chuck, and the servants had been trained to send them away. From Serena's incoherent speech, he had assumed that his guest had not been a lady, and so the response was only fitting. Chuck threw open the door and ran out onto the street. The woman had not walked far, and Chuck started after her.

"Lady!" he called.

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned around. Chuck jogged to her, cold and bare in the night air. She was darker than many of the ladies that he knew from his circle, with black hair in small curls that appeared natural and did not undergo hours pressed by hot iron. "Lord Charles?" she asked.

"You have news of Nathaniel?" he gasped, out of breath.

She nodded. "He's in my home. He's near dying." She bit her bottom lip. "I only knew to come to you because he called for you."

"Impossible," Chuck muttered. "Nathaniel left for France."

"He was attacked by brigands at the dock," she told him.

The simple statement confirmed to Chuck his suspicion regarding the woman. "Take me to him."

The woman glanced at his bare chest, and for the first time, her lips curved. "You may need to put on clothes, milord. I have no provision for a heated carriage."

Chuck released a breath of relief. "Come with me. You can wait in the parlor while I change." Chuck proceeded back to the townhouse, but the woman grabbed his arm. He turned his head.

"I should meet you here instead. I have one more place to go, and I hope you can lead me there. There is one more name he called for. Can you point me to the home of a lady named Blair?"

Chuck shook his head. "Walk back with me. You will not find Lady Blair unless you're willing to go to Paris right now."

"Oh," she whispered. She walked a couple of steps behind Chuck as they made their way back to the townhouse. "Was he going to her?" she asked hesitantly. "When he was attacked, was he on his way to her?"

Chuck opened the door for her. The woman seemed to hesitate, but he gestured for her to step inside. He watched as she looked around in amazement. He led the way to the parlor. "You can wait here—" his voice trailed off.

"Vanessa," she offered.

"Vanessa," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue. "And yes, he was on his way to her." Chuck turned to leave.

"Who—"

"She is betrothed to him. He was going to get her so they can be married," he answered, curious as to the curiosity of Nathaniel's good Samaritan. She was a lovely girl, exotic and completely different from the women he and Nate were used to. Pity that she was a commoner.

They arrived at Vanessa's humble room an hour later. Chuck walked towards the bed in concern. Nate was sleeping fitfully, with a bloody rag wrapped around his belly. He reached out to touch Nate's forehead and found him fevered. He looked up at Vanessa in accusation. "A physician hasn't seen to him?"

She shook her head. Chuck bared his teeth. "Is it money? I assure you, you would have been restituted."

For a moment, she appeared hurt. "I would have called for a doctor," she defended. "It was he who asked me not to."

Chuck turned to Nate in confusion. "Nathaniel," he said loudly, eager to break through the fever with his voice. "Nathaniel, I am taking you back to your townhouse."

"No!" Vanessa protested loudly.

Chuck looked up with a glare. "He cannot stay in this…" His lips curled. "House is not a term I can use, is it?"

She did not take insult. The resplendent home that they had left where she had gone for Chuck was proof enough that the man would have a different viewpoint on what Vanessa considered a luxury in London. "He insisted that it's not safe to go home."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. He shook Nate. "What's not safe, Nate? Why is your home not safe?" he asked.

Nate turned his head away. "Blair," he breathed. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at Chuck with liquid eyes. Chuck noticed the fever in his vision. "Chuck, I have to get Lady Blair."

"Who hurt you, Nate?"

"My father—made so many mistakes. People are after me," he choked out. "I can't go home until I find out who. But—" Nate tried to raise himself up. "Lady Blair—"

Chuck eased his best friend back down on the bed. "Is probably in better shape than you are. Rest."

"Chuck, you don't understand. I need to get her. Her brother—her stepbrother—has been after her for years. I was a child, but I made a vow to protect her, and a promise is a promise."

Nate reached up his hand, silently asking his best friend to help him up. Instead, Chuck clasped Nate's hand and shook his head. "Then I swear, Nathaniel, I will leave for France tonight in your stead. I will take her from her family and keep her safe until you're well."

Nate breathed a sigh of relief, because Chuck was as close to a brother as he could have and a promise from him was as good for Lady Blair as anything he could get. He nodded. "I trust you," Nate said, tightening his hold on his best friend's hand.

Chuck nodded, then looked towards Vanessa. "Be well. You have a good caretaker. I will be sending a trusted man to protect you, and my private doctor to look in on you each day."

"Take care, Chuck." Nate licked his lips. Noticing the small action, Vanessa brought a glass of water over and tipped it to Nate's lips. Nate sipped some. "And take care of my bride."

Chuck's lips curved. "It's a promise."

tbc

AN: I am still actively working on Charlie and Gracie, but the idea for a historical romance hit me and I had to start this. Let me know if you think this will work and if you want more, so I know whether to focus my energy to this as well. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you for the encouraging response. You are why this next part came so fast. This is in Daniel Humphrey's point of view, so you will see many references to titles and stature.

Part 2

Daniel Humphrey sat with one leg crossed over the other, his lips pursed as he took down the details as Lord Bartholomew enumerated. He nodded at the right moments, and murmured agreement whenever it seemed that the older gentleman needed him to. In fact, with all fairness, Daniel knew that he was the best and most qualified secretary that the duke had ever hired.

It was not arrogance, even. Daniel was well aware of his talents and worked very hard so that such a powerful man would notice him from the ranks. After all, there were seven other secretaries hired when he was. Yet after eight months of working for the Bass household, Daniel now remained to be the only one of those young men, all graduates of the prestigious University that the son and heir also attended, who broke through the invisible line and was now privy to many of the duke's more important businesses.

Daniel had even been the first of the secretaries to learn about the real reason that Lord Charles was suddenly shipped to America.

It was therefore only reasonable that he, the son of a mere musician and a humble painter, from the poorer side of town, impressed the ton enough to earn a scholarship and eventually make his way to the finest household of the city.

The door of the study swung open. Daniel turned his head and saw the younger Bass stride in. He was surprised at the sight, because Lord Charles often slept until mid afternoon during the Season.

"Your grace, may I have a word?" Lord Charles asked his father.

Daniel rose from his seat, prepared to step outside. The duke waved him back down. "No need to leave, Mr Humphrey. This will be brief. Continue your notations." Daniel made his way to a smaller desk to the side of the room, and started typing up Lord Bartholomew's dictation. "Yes, Charles?" inquired the duke.

Charles barely spared a glance at the secretary. "I'm leaving for France, father. Today."

Daniel looked up and noted the duke's brows drew together. "Today?" the old man repeated. "This was not in my plan."

"It's in mine now," Charles insisted. "I would appreciate it if you will wire some of my funds over."

Bartholomew turned towards Daniel and gave a curt nod. Daniel immediately responded, "Right away, your grace."

"Should I ask?"

Charles shook it. "It's a matter I wish to keep private for now."

"Very well," Bartholomew decided. "You shall have the money, as well as Mr Humphrey to accompany you."

Daniel kept his grimace from emerging, aware that such a reaction would be the very thing that could get him dismissed. Instead, he bowed his head.

"I have no need for Humphrey, your grace," Charles easily replied.

"Well, I have need of Mr Humphrey to go with you."

Charles' voice dropped. "You don't trust me."

Daniel saw Bartholomew turn to him and wave his hand. He rose from the desk and exited the study. His legs took him up the stairs. Daniel stopped at the top, where the corridor split between the left wing and the right wing. He looked around to ensure that he was not followed or observed. The servants lived on the first floor, just behind the kitchen. Other help, such as he, lived in the right wing of the house. He, other secretaries, and the stepson's tutor had their own rooms and could move about in freedom there. Daniel turned left and walked quickly, lest a chambermaid see him where he did not belong.

He laid his palm flat on the door and took a deep breath. Four months from the first day he had done this and he was still nervous at such proximity. Daniel rapped on the door. It opened slightly, and she peeked. Daniel smiled. Her hair was down, her face bare of rice powder or rouge. Miss van der Woodsen looked like an angel. She smiled at him in welcome, and pulled the door open wider. She wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled him inside. Once the door was closed behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

"I wasn't expecting you until five," she exclaimed.

"Your brother bought us time. And we need time," he told her. "I'm being sent to France to accompany him."

"You," she said breathlessly.

"I wish I could say no. I do not want to be apart from you."

She smiled, then cupped his face with her hands. "No, no! This is wonderful news. You have been chosen out of an army of the duke's secretaries. The more he trusts you, the better for us when we finally break the news."

He smiled at her words, and then rested his forehead on hers. "But it's the Season. You will have admirers flocking around you in each party."

"Flock they may like the vultures they are," Serena mouthed, placing kisses on Daniel's jaw. "They're dandies. I already have a man."

Daniel snorted. "Your father's secretary."

She nodded. Serena placed her hands on his chest. "Hardworking, intelligent and handsome."

"Miss van der Woodsen—"

She swatted his chest. "You are not introducing me in a Society party."

"Serena," he amended, and she nodded in satisfaction, "I'm not sure how this can work. I'm a secretary."

She pulled him towards the bed and sat him down. "You mentioned that."

"Your father is Lord Bartholomew Bass, Duke of Devonshire."

Serena folded her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts together. Daniel eyes flickered to the crevice it created. He swallowed.

"Stepfather," she corrected.

Daniel took a deep breath. "And your stepbrother, despite the fact that he acts nothing like it, is a marquis."

She gave him a lopsided grin. "Because it doesn't matter to us. I don't know why it should matter to you. Chuck was born into this. I wasn't even born into this. Neither was Eric. I mean, sure, we were wealthy, but this kind of life only happened when my mother married the duke."

Daniel shook his head. "You can only say it doesn't matter to you because you're you. I'm on the opposite side, and I can tell you—it matters. It matters a lot."

She collapsed onto the bed right beside where he was seated, and sighed. "I'm so weary of this conversation, Daniel! In the four months we have been together, three of them were spent on this very conversation."

He lay back on the bed, then turned to his side so that he was facing her. He reached to cover her hand in his. "I'm sorry."

She turned her head to face him, then met his lips for a kiss. "Let's not speak of it anymore." Serena closed her eyes to surrender to the kiss. When she pulled away, she smiled at him. "Do you know the purpose of this trip?" He shook his head. "Chuck is going to France to retrieve Lady Blair, Lord Nathaniel's betrothed." She gave him a prim smile. "You must not tell him that I've told you," she cautioned, "lest suspects."

He raised her hand to his lips. "I'll be back. And I hope by my return, you are still an unmarried woman. Don't fall in love with a dandy, alright?"

"I will wait for you, mister secretary," she answered.

Two hours later, Daniel found himself standing on the steamship beside Lord Charles Bass, marquis of Hartington. Daniel had made this trip before, yet this was the first he had experienced such as this. People milled about them and gave them a wide berth, completely different from his experience of bumping into others people in a cramped space.

When the captain found out about the nobleman on board, he had come himself to welcome Charles. With the steamship line being the only way to ferry from England to France, Daniel suspected that the crew encountered more noble folk each day than could be counted by hand. Then again, there were very few noblemen of Charles Bass' stature.

And so he thought back to Serena. He sighed.

"My lord, would you tell me now what we are going to do in France, so I may prepare?"

Lord Bass turned his head to face him, and Daniel was surprised by the amusement in his eyes. "Do you honestly expect me to believe, Humphrey, that my beautiful sister hasn't apprised you of the entire story?"

Daniel held his breath. "I am not aware—"

"Look, Humphrey, this will be a long trip, and you will be working for me," Charles said. "You will get to know me. Once you do, you will understand that I know everything, especially a scandalous affair that's taking place in my own house."

Daniel regarded the marquis warily. "My lord—"

"My father will not hear it from my lips."

The secretary released a relieved breath. "Thank you, my lord." He looked back out to the dock, which was now growing smaller as the steamship moved. "So, my lord, how does one extract a noblewoman from her family's grasp?" Charles turned a wry look at him, and Daniel stuttered, realizing how the question could be misinterpreted. "I am certain people keep a close watch on Lady Blair. I hear she is quite the heiress."

"Don't worry. Another thing you will learn about me, Humphrey. I am very resourceful," Charles assured him.

tbc

AN: Next chapter, we all finally meet Lady Blair.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Your reviews are lovely. Thank you. You have now gotten me addicted to your thoughts on the story, so I am updating so fast. I will get into trouble now because I am so delayed with my Smallville fic. Anyway, here I am back with the story that cannot leave my head right now.

Part 3

The knock on the door was brisk. Lady Blair pushed the covers away from her body and slid out of bed. "Come in," she called out. The door opened and her wonderful maid stepped in. "Dorota!" she exclaimed. "Merci."

"Bon soir, my lady." The maid walked over to her lady's walk in closet.

Blair walked over to her bathroom and splashed water on her face. She reached for a white satin ribbon from the drawer and tied it around her head to hold her hair away from her face. "Hurry, Dorota, before maman finds me gone." She turned around and saw Dorota standing by her bed holding up a deep blue gown. "Perfect!"

"Bien sûr, Lady Blair," Dorota huffed, as if it was even a question that she would pick the correct outfit for her charge. She laid out the gown on the bed.

Blair turned around and waited for Dorota to help her out of her nightgown. "Is maman asleep?"

"Yes, my lady. It's late."

Blair slipped out of the nightgown and waited for Dorota to help put on her chemise. She then stepped into the gown that the maid held up. Blair sighed and turned around to face her dearest maid, who had been with her since she was a baby. She smiled and gave Dorota a hug. "Dear Dorota, I know you disapprove, but this is the only time when I can explore the world!" she exclaimed, holding her arms wide. Her voice fell, "I'm a prisoner here, Dorota."

The maid pursed her lips, then handed Blair her gloves. "Very well, my lady. Now follow me to the servant's entrance. Miss Kati and Miss Isabel are waiting in their phaeton out there."

Blair clapped in excitement. She took Dorota's hand as they walked to the servant stairwell. When they stepped out onto the street, the teal blue phaeton door opened and her two friends waved her over. Blair broke into a smile and turned around. "Cover for me?"

Dorota patted Blair's cheek and said, "You didn't need to ask, my lady."

Blair smiled and whirled around to run towards the phaeton. She climbed up and the phaeton rolled. She settled back in her seat. "Kati, Iz, we're finally doing it!"

Kati opened her fan with a smile, displaying the fine Chinese silk despite the fact that it was not warm. She fanned herself. "It was a mission to even get you out of that house," she told Blair.

Blair shrugged, unapologetic, because no matter how difficult they found it to help her slip out of Eleanor Rose's grasp, they would always do it. She was Lady Blair Waldorf after all. "Well thank you for doing it," she managed diplomatically. She turned to Isabel. "Where are we going tonight?"

Isabel leaned forward and placed a hand on Blair's. "We're going to La Fleur Noire."

Blair's lips parted with surprise and intrigue. "La Fleur Noire?"

Isabel's smile in response was playful. "Is it just the perfect idea?" she drawled.

"It is," Blair granted. "How did you even know about that place?" It was a prominent gentleman's club, and she had only found out about it when she eavesdropped on her stepbrother and her stepfather discussing how Aaron spent his allowance.

"One of my gentleman callers goes there after visiting me," Kati shared. "My maid heard it from our cook who heard it from his valet." There was no trace of hurt in her voice as she relayed the information.

It was not long before they alighted from the phaeton and entered the back door. Isabel slipped some coins to one of the girls and turned to Blair. "It's time to dance, Blair."

Blair smirked, then shook her head. "If your gentlemen callers go to this club, then I highly doubt that I can remain anonymous."

A redhaired young woman held up a jeweled mask. Isabel narrowed her eyes. "You wanted to experience life that's as far as possible to your real one. I dare you, my lady."

With a determined set of her jaw, Blair snatched the mask from the redhead. "You don't think I'll do it.

"I know you won't," pronounced Kati. "Underneath all the bravado, you are still your papa's little comtesse."

At the mention of her father, Blair huffed. She tied the mask on. "Never mention my father again."

She strode with purpose and reached the bottom step to the stage, where the last woman was performing the last steps of her act. The woman danced seductively, gyrated like Blair had not seen anyone do before. She wondered if the woman had a different body structure, because no human should be able to move like that. She studied the dance, focusing closely on the steps.

Blair glanced at the audience. Kati and Isabel were right. They seemed like a sophisticated lot, like men she would often see in the balls she attended. She scanned the faces at the table and recognized about a half dozen of them. And then a smattering of applause, and the last performer stepped down from the stage. The club hostess led her towards one of the tables, where she was welcomed by one of the gentlemen. Blair squinted and recognized the man as Kati's suitor.

She took a deep breath and climbed the steps, hesitated for a moment, before making her way to the center of the stage. This was that one moment when she could do exactly what her mother would never expect, would not wish. There were very little chances of victory in her life, and she needed to grab these chances and burn them to memory. The music started. She gave a shy smile, then started moving her hips from side to side.

Her attention was caught by the frowning hostess, who rightly did not recognize her. The door opened and two more patrons walked in. Blair felt the gaze of one of the newcomers burning into her flesh. Her hand automatically reached up for one end of her satin accessory and pulled the ribbon off, then allowed it to fall on the floor. She then reached for the buttons of her gown. Feeling brave all of a sudden, she met the eyes of the newcomer from across the room, and gave him a playful wave of her fingers.

Blair turned around and kept moving. She slipped her arms off the sleeves, then raised them up high to let the gown fall to the floor, then stood there only in her chemise. She gave a sigh of relief when the music ended. Blair bent down to pick up her satin ribbon.

She raced down the steps and said, "Kati, get my clothes."

"Mon Dieu!" Isabel exclaimed happily. "You were wonderful."

Blair turned around and saw the hostess walking towards them. She received her clothes from Kati and allowed her two friends to help her put them on. "Hurry!" she gasped, trying the ribbon in her hair.

The three proceeded to the exit and ran out. Kati and Isabel climbed onto the phaeton, laughing. Blair reached up at the rail to pull herself up, when a hand closed over her arm. She turned her head and came face to face with the gentleman who had been watching her so intently from across the floor.

"I assume you're on your way home," came his deep voice.

"I am, my lord," she breathed.

"I was going to invite you to join my table."

She gave him a tight smile. "I am not the type of girl to join a gentleman's table in La Fleur Noire."

He jerked his head towards the phaeton. "From the looks of it, you are not the type of girl to dance in La Fleur Noire either." The man reached up to touch her mask, and Blair belatedly realized after all the articles of clothing she had removed, she still managed to keep her wits and her mask. "Rebel," he taunted, sending a shiver down her spine. "Will you take off your mask?"

"I will not take off my mask to any patron of La Fleur Noire. You understand," she cut in, keeping her voice sharp to maintain her control.

"I do. But I am not a patron. In fact, I have only just arrived from England, on a noble mission," he teased.

"A noble mission in a gentleman's club?" she parried.

"Truth to tell, my lady. I did not expect this. Gentlemen's clubs in my country are cigars, old men regaling us with tales and younger men wagering and playing cards."

"What did you expect when you entered an establishment named Black Flower?"

It was apparent to Blair that he was stifling a grin. "I am a much better man than you would think, given the little you know of me," he insisted.

"I do not wish to know you, my lord," she told him, her face inches from his with one foot on the first step.

He shrugged. "I just wanted you to know that you looked amazing up there."

She took a deep breath, and his smell assailed her senses. Blair closed her eyes and moved closer to him.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

She smiled, then met his lips for a brief kiss. His lips opened underneath hers, and they parted. Blair found herself under the onslaught of his mouth, and then his tongue. He tasted like scotch, or what she remembered of scotch when she sipped her father's drink once upon a time. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed away. "Thank you for the experience," she breathed against his lips. "Now if you will excuse me, my lord."

"Enchanté ," he murmured. His nostrils flared. Reluctantly, he helped her onto the phaeton. "Leave me something at least, to remember you by."

She bit her lip, then pulled hair free of the ribbon. She folded up the white satin and placed it in his hand.

Blair settled back into her seat, and the phaeton rolled out the cobbled streets. She glanced back and saw the dark-haired gentleman watching as they left, holding the ribbon to his face, inhaling the scent. When they turned the corner, she untied her mask and turned wide eyes at her friends.

"Oh Blair, who was it?"

"He was dashing!" Kati exclaimed.

Blair smiled and took Kati's fan. She needed it. "Well, ladies, tonight proved to be quite successful."

Isabel snickered. "You forgive us then?"

"Very much so," Blair pronounced. "So do be certain you will be attending my mother's masquerade ball. After tonight's rousing success, I would like to make sure that my friends are invited to all the big parties at the Rose manor." She touched a finger to her lips. "My first kiss."

"And you didn't even know his name."

"Perfect." Blair's lips curved. "Maman would be thrilled if she knew." She arched her eyebrows at Isabel.

Isabel nodded. "I'll let it slip during the ball."

"Brilliant," Blair declared. "Now take me home."

In the morning, Blair emerged into the dining room wearing a bright yellow dress and a smile on her face. Eleanor glanced twice at Blair in surprise. "You seem jovial, ma cherie."

"I am, maman."

"As well you should," Eleanor granted. She sipped her tea and bestowed a smile at her new husband and her stepson. "Blair received a new suit today. Blair, I believe we have finally found you a suitable husband."

Blair looked up with a frown. "And what about my actual fiancé, maman? I am still betrothed to Lord Nathaniel. That hasn't changed."

Eleanor waved a hand in dismissal. "You will meet this new suitor at the ball, Blair. Your good father, God bless his dear departed soul, did not amass the fortune you have under your name, for that money only to go into paying off the Archibald debt."

Cyrus cleared his throat. "Ladies, this may not be the best time to discuss this matter."

"Best not discuss this matter at all," muttered Aaron.

Blair gasped, because her mother never mentioned the Archibald scandal with such detail before. "With no money, they should then not expect us to honor a promise made ten years ago?"

The older woman brushed her forehead wearily. "Blair, I want only what's best for you."

"And this man, who I have never met, is it?" she demanded.

"He's the Marquis of Hartington, the son of a duke. You cannot do better than this," Eleanor informed her daughter.

"Of course I can!" Blair erupted. "I can fall in love, maman. I can fall in love with Nathaniel."

"I am weary of this conversation," pronounced Eleanor. "You will be at the ball, at your best behavior. No matter how much you despise me, ma cherie, I know you will not disgrace your father's good name."

"My father was there. He made that engagement with the Archibald family. You want to honor his memory so much, maman, why not try not to break his word?"

"Stop it, Blair," Eleanor responded calmly, albeit with strain in her voice.

"Madame." Blair rose from her seat stiffly, and nodded at Cyrus and Aaron. "Messieurs." She gathered her skirts to leave.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thank you so much for your feedback. They were much appreciated. Here is the awaited scene where CB meet as they really are.

Part 4

The sun shone bright outside, and they shielded their eyes on the way out to the veranda, where a small breakfast table was set. The events of the night were still fresh, and Chuck grimaced as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. It was satisfactory enough to him that Daniel Humphrey, the secretary who drank nothing the night before, was experiencing the same discomfort as he was.

He speared a sausage with his fork and brought it to his mouth, then started chewing. Daniel bit onto unflavored bread.

"I just might be in love with her, Humphrey," Chuck said out loud in realization. He had been reading his newspaper while he and his father's secretary ate breakfast. While sipping some coffee, he brought the paper down with a frown. Daniel Humphrey had regarded him quietly, as if waiting for Chuck to formulate his thoughts. Chuck gathered that Daniel Humphrey often did that for his father. And that was when he spoke out the stray thought.

Daniel chuckled. "You will pardon me, I hope. My lord, you do not know the young woman in question. You've seen her once, half-dressed, in a club. I daresay til not love, but something else entirely, Lord Charles."

Chuck smirked, then shook his head. "You're right," he gave in. "It must be that infatuation. It's not every day one sees a Society lady for the first time in nothing but a thin chemise. She's a thrillseeker." Chuck laughed slightly. "Now if I could find her again, I can give her the thrill of a lifetime."

Daniel cleared his throat. "My lord, just to keep us on track and back to England as soon as possible, I might remind you of the purpose we're here."

Chuck placed the newspaper down and raised his eyebrows. "Retrieve Lady Blair and take her back to London and Nathaniel Fitzwilliam Archibald's waiting arms," Chuck restated. "Speaking of our mission, have you finagled invitations to Eleanor Rose's ball?"

"Just as you asked, my lord. It was not difficult at all, armed with your name and title," Daniel offered wryly.

The trace of irony in his voice was not lost to Chuck. He spoke the words Daniel likely thought. "With a name and title such as mine, you believe life will be easier?" he asked curiously. Daniel nodded. "And you would have no obstacle to Serena?"

"Wouldn't you agree?"

"If only it were that easy, Humphrey." Chuck brought the cup of coffee to his lips and sipped. "Look at Nathaniel. One of the oldest families in London, yet with one misstep from his father, his entire life came crashing down on him."

Daniel commented, "But he's still noble. He can marry some wealthy girl and be back on top."

"And that would be the girl branded with scandal or so homely no one else will have her," Chuck said matter-of-factly.

"Lady Blair wants to marry him—as far as I know her reputation is intact, and she has suitors lining up."

"Lady Blair is an odd case." Chuck's lips curved. "Makes me wonder what is wrong with her to be so bent on Nathaniel. Something must be wrong with the girl." He turned to Daniel again. "That reminds me—"

Daniel nodded before Chuck could finish his sentence. "Yes, my lord," Daniel interrupted. "I have sent a letter to Lady Eleanor of the Marquis of Hartington's desire to press a suit for her daughter's hand."

Chuck was impressed, and he said so. "Now I know why my father's handpicked you from his stable of young, promising secretaries. You are quite efficient, Humphrey."

"I will take that as a compliment, my lord, rather than an insult to be compared to a horse."

Daniel slid the invitation towards Chuck. Chuck opened the envelope and read through the script. He placed the card back inside and wondered, "You think our Fleur Noire exhibitionist is invited to this particular ball?"

"It will not be surprising if she were, my lord. Society is not that big of a population, and very few outsiders are invited in," Daniel pointed out.

"Well, Daniel, lucky for you, we have an invitation and you can come along."

Daniel nodded, as expected. "And what would you have me do this night, my lord?" he inquired, eager to serve.

"I will be prowling for my Black Flower," Chuck stated. "You, on the other hand, must find out what mask and gown the Lady Blair is wearing, so that I could complete my mission for Nathaniel with haste."

"And once I find her, my lord?"

"Tell me who she is and I will take care of the rest," Chuck advised.

The night arrived quickly, and Chuck made sure that he was dressed in the best tailored costume he could have made for him within the afternoon. No one had wanted to accept the order from Daniel initially until they found out that a marquis would be wearing the creation in the Rose masquerade ball. Within four hours, Daniel carried back the costume to Chuck's hotel room.

Pleased, Chuck donned the red and black costume and the mask. He opened the door and found Daniel wearing a black and white suit.

"This is a masquerade ball," Chuck pronounced.

Daniel looked at the marquis from head to toe, then smirked. "If I had not known, I would have upon the sight of you, my lord. You are the devil."

Chuck grinned. "It suits me. His grace would agree. Pray tell, Humphrey, what are you going as?"

"As a dandy," Daniel shared.

"Quite creative," Chuck murmured, then stepped out into the corridor. "Do we—"

"I have taken the liberty to rent out a carriage for you, my lord."

Chuck patted Daniel's back. "Remind me to steal you from my father's employ once we get back to London."

Chuck presented the cards to the butler, then stood at the top of the stairs. Behind him, he was vaguely aware of the mothers and fathers who seemed to assess him from head to toe, wondering what the Englishman was doing in Paris amidst the height of the London Season.

"Lord Charles Bartholomew Bass, Marquis of Hartington, son of the Duke of Devonshire," announced the butler. "Mister Daniel Humphrey."

Upon the sound of his name, more people looked up at him. Chuck descended the steps and moved easily under the close scrutiny of the parents who were searching for a good match for their daughters. He scanned the room, hoping to find his Fleur Noire, wondering how he would recognize her when he had only ever seen her masked. Yet again, everyone in the place was masked.

"Daniel, learn what you've been asked to find out, and meet me within an hour."

The secretary did as he was told, and Chuck found himself standing alone amidst the predatory crowd. One woman stepped out of the circle and walked over to Chuck. There was no mistaking her identity given the way she carried herself. This was the lady of the manor.

"Lord Hartington," she greeted, holding out her hand. "I'm Lady Rose."

Chuck took the older woman's hand in his, bowed deeply and kissed her knuckles. "Lady Rose, I am fortunate to make your acquaintance." She was, he regarded, a handsome woman. If Lady Blair inherited her mother's looks, then he was certain that Nathaniel would not spend many lonely nights. "You are as beautiful as the flower whose name you bear."

Lady Rose laughed with pleasure. "You are a flatterer, my lord!" she exclaimed. "It is my pleasure to welcome you into my home." She looked around. "My daughter is here somewhere, and I'm certain she would adore meeting you." Lady Rose assessed the young man. "You are much younger than I expected, my lord. When you signed your letter as Marquis of Hartington, I had pictured a feeble old man." She waved the thought aside.

"And yet you agreed to have Lady Blair marry me."

Lady Rose flushed. "Well, my lord, let me see if I can find my daughter in this room."

Chuck nodded. When Eleanor vanished into the crowd, he turned and walked around. Eyes and noses were hidden from view, but lips, bodies could be seen. And those lips were unforgettable. Chuck climbed the winding staircase and looked around. So many lovely ladies, but none was the girl who kissed him outside the gentleman's club the night before.

One door opened, and music wafted out. Two young women stumbled out, then started giggling, with their masks hanging from their fingers. They turned around, and Chuck caught a glance of their faces before they placed the masks back on. He recognized them as the girls who helped her escape. It only meant that she was here, in this ball. Chuck's heart rose to his throat.

He opened the music room door and saw the young woman sitting behind the piano with her back to him. A white jeweled mask lay on top of the piano and he ached to call out to her, to have her turn around, so that he could see her face. She was wearing white feathered wings, he noted, folded up behind her as if they were broken. A silver halo, crooked, sat atop her head. She was a fallen angel. He started to call for her, but the first note sounded, and then the next, and he was struck still where he stood.

"Amazing grace," came the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He was used to the high pitched singing of the debutantes in London, and was surprised by the girl's singing voice. "How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me." She held the note long, and her voice trembled. Chuck's throat closed at the realization that she was singing out of distress. "I once was lost but now I'm found, was blind but now I see." She stopped singing, and her fingers faltered on the keys. "Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear," she choked. The music started up again. "And Grace, my fears relieved. How precious did that Grace appear the hour I first believed," she finished in a whisper. He stepped forward in concern, and heard the quiet sniffle.

She turned her head to the side, and he could only glimpse the smooth cheek, the long neck. "Whoever you are, please leave. This is a private room."

"I'm sorry. I—"

"It's fine," she rasped. "Make your way back to the party," the young woman commanded hoarsely.

Chuck's eyebrows furrowed. "Lady Blair?"

A pregnant pause, and then: "Please," she begged, "leave."

He caught his breath, then stepped outside and closed the door behind him. One of the girls from the night before passed by him, then stopped. "You are the gentleman we met at La Fleur," she pointed out. "Well, not mine. The one that our friend spoke with." She smiled at him. Her voice dropped. "The one she kissed."

"Mademoiselle—"

"Isabel Coates," she provided. "She asked you to leave?" Isabel shrugged. "The music room is very private and very special. She and her father used to play the piano there all the time."

Chuck blinked back at the young woman, who held onto a champagne flute. "I see," he managed.

"Oh, Kati's calling me. If you'll excuse me, my lord." She walked briskly to the end of the corridor.

Daniel Humphrey walked towards him. Chuck nodded at the secretary. "My lord," Daniel called out, "I know what Lady Blair is dressed as."

"A fallen angel," Chuck whispered.

Daniel appeared taken aback. "You know." Daniel shook his head. "Wait, you've met her?"

"She likes to be alone when she's playing the piano," Chuck said softly. He jerked his head towards the stairs. "Come on. You've done your job tonight, Humphrey. Enjoy the ball. Dance with debutantes."

Daniel laughed. "No dancing with debutantes. I have no doubt that the same way you know everything, Serena has a way as well."

"You think she's not dancing through her Season?"

Chuck made his way down the stairs. As customary, he took part in the dance rotation and signed eight dance cards. He spun through the dance floor while keeping his eyes trained on the stairs. His sixth dance was about to end, with an insipid blonde who seemed awestruck to be dancing with him, when the fallen angel emerged from the second floor.

He excused himself from his dance partner, and smoothly moved over to the bottom step. She turned her masked face to him and continued walking down the steps. He raised his hand toward her as she neared him. "May I have the next dance, my lady?"

She placed her hand in his. "My lord."

Chuck escorted her to the center of the floor and held her close. The mothers who had been watching the marquis the entire night pursed their lips at the close proximity as the two danced. Chuck did not pay attention to the forlorn young woman whose card he had signed to be the next dance. Instead, his gaze fell to her slightly parted lips.

"I think you would be very happy if you left with me right now," he said smoothly.

"Surely you jest, my lord."

"The devil never jests. He does present irresistible temptation."

She pulled away. "Then you are presumptuous, my lord." Her eyebrows furrowed. "I recognize your voice." Blair gasped, then pulled away.

"Lady Blair, I came to Paris with one goal and that goal is you," he started, loathing remembering Nathaniel's request when his head was full of her song, of her kiss, of the feel of her in his arms.

"You think that's flattery?" She untied her mask and bared her glimmering narrowed eyes at him. Chuck sucked in his breath at the sight of naked fury and delicate beauty both entwined to produce the broken winged creature before him. Blair turned on her heels and walked away.

Chuck watched her leave, uncomfortable with the rate that his heart beat and the tightening and fluttering in his stomach.

Eleanor Rose walked after her daughter, then pulled Blair aside. Chuck walked towards them and heard the admonishment. "Blair, that is no way to talk to the man who will be husband!" Blair turned hurt eyes towards Chuck.

"Your mother accepted my suit," he informed her quite calmly.

Betrayed, she turned to her mother. "You accepted it, then you marry him!"

Chuck pulled his mask off in frustration. He saw Lady Blair's eyes widen at the sight of his face. She fled to the garden. Chuck moved to follow her but Eleanor Rose placed a hand on his arm. "Best leave her alone when she's acting like a child."

And despite the many silent moments when he disagreed with Eleanor Rose, it was the first time that Chuck realized exactly why Nathaniel was in such urgency to retrieve Blair Waldorf.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

It was preposterous and utterly unfair, she thought to herself as she fumed in the garden. She had always been disgusted by the very idea that after long years of knowing that she was going to be Nathaniel's wife, her mother could so easily change the path that her life would take. And she had done it over something as petty as a financial crisis on the part of the Archibalds'. Heavens, Blair thought in her head, her dowry alone could probably pay off the Archibald debt ten times over!

And that man—that man was the last straw! She ignored the low tingling sensation she had felt when the marquis held her in his arms, when she met his eyes from the slits of their masks. She had danced with the devil himself and it had been an experience that went beyond her wildest dreams. He had been playing her, of course—probably testing her virtue. The marquis had known that he was going to take Blair for a wife, and he had followed her during her night of debauchery. There was no other explanation for it.

Did he plan to ruin her name and force her hand in marriage? Blair huffed. If she had not been wearing her favorite ballroom shoes, she would have stomped her foot as well, so frustrated was she.

That man was insufferable. And he knew how to make her body respond. Idly, her fingers rose to touch her lips. He had known exactly how to kiss her. Blair wondered how many ladies he had kissed to do it so well. He probably kissed half the Parisian ladies before he found one as rich as Blair.

There were footsteps behind her, and Blair turned around knowing that it would definitely not her mother. Eleanor Rose had always run off to spend time with her friends or to vacation with Cyrus abroad when there was a chance of confrontation with her only daughter.

Blair stood up in surprise, conscious of the intruder in her private space. He walked forward until he was only a few steps in front of her. She opened her mouth to ask him to leave, but he smiled warmly, as if there was nothing odd that existed between them.

"I'm not here to fight," he said, his voice deep like a caress. "I'm here to check on my sister."

Her stiff shoulders slackened, because he spoke like the brother she had always thought him to be until one night, right after Nate and his parents returned to England, and Aaron had just become more aloof, like a stranger who looked at her from beneath shadowed eyes. This, tonight, was the brother she had once looked up to and adored, and she had missed him so. "Oh Aaron! Did you see it?" she cried out. "It was awful."

Aaron Rose stepped forward and took his stepsister in his arms. Blair sighed with relief. Finally, there was one person in her family, apart from Dorota, who seemed to be on her side. She laid her head on his chest. "She will never stop, will she?" she whispered against his shirt.

His hand was warm as he stroked her back. Blair burrowed deeper into his embrace as she relished this rare moment when Aaron returned to being the familiar and loving Aaron that had been gone for a time. "Evidently," his voice rumbled in his chest. "I, for one, cannot believe how quickly your mother has found someone to marry you off to."

"I know." She sniffled. "Does she want to get rid of me so much?"

He pulled away a little to look down into her eyes. "There is only one solution to this."

She blinked up at him, anxious to learn about a wonderful new idea sure to come. "What is it, Aaron?" And then he cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. Blair's eyes grew wide. "Aaron," she choked uncertainly.

Her stepbrother cocked his head to the side and dove, so quickly, so unexpectedly, that Blair had no chance to react. And then his lips were on hers and they were heavy and demanding, bruising. Blair choked out a cry and pushed on his shoulders with both hands. She freed her lips long enough to yell, "Aaron, stop, please!"

"I dream of you every night."

"Aaron, stop. This isn't right. I'm your sister."

And then he slapped a hand over her lips and spat into her ear. "You've known, you little cocktease. Just like little Archibald did. Don't tell me he didn't tell you about our last conversation."

Oh my God, she thought. There had been no word, no sign. Before Nathaniel and his parents left, when she was fifteen, he had brushed his lips against her knuckles, and the action had made her heart jump to her throat. Nathaniel had promised her that he would come back for her, that he would marry her. And he had done it in front of Eleanor, Cyrus and Aaron.

Was that Lord Nathaniel's subtle way of warning Aaron Rose off? If it was, and he truly did know about this sick fascination that her stepbrother had for her, she was going to hunt him down and kill him. He hadn't given her a chance at all.

And then his fingers grasped the front of her white gown, and Blair winced at the pain at her nape when he pulled violently down, ripping the thread at the shoulder seams. It revealed the upper left half of her white chemise. Idly, she noted that her broken wings had fallen down on the grass. Blair looked up towards the doors back to the house and saw only the quiet corridor. She screamed, aware even as she did that her voice would not be heard over the din of the ballroom music and chatter, so far away were they from where the guests were. This was one of the reasons she and her father used to love to practice here in their private paradise. Harold would play his violin, and Blair would sing. None of the servants ever disrupted their sanctuary.

"That English brat thought he was man enough to challenge me. Now look where he is." Aaron's eyes roamed the expanse of the flesh he had revealed, and bile rose in her throat at the hungry look in his eyes. She struggled to free herself, but he held on fast. "Not even fit to kiss the ground you walk on."

Vaguely, Blair realized that she was crying. She screamed again, wearing her voice, knowing she was hurting herself and that no one was likely to help. Instead, because he was so much stronger and this was all the control she could get in the situation, Blair screamed and screamed.

One hand grasped her jaw to force her to face him. Blair squeezed her eyes shut. "Shut the hell up!" he yelled back. "You think I don't know about your little escapade last night?" Blair froze. "You're a little slut, Blair. How many men in La Fleur Noire have you spread your legs for, little bitch?"

And despite thinking that she was scared before, it did not compare to the sheer terror that enveloped her then. With adrenaline borne out of fear, Blair struggled with arms and legs flailing until she kneed him in the groin. He cursed and folded into himself. She freed herself and scampered away.

She reached until the doors before he caught the back of her gown and pulled her back. Blair stumbled down onto the floor, and then she was pressed against the floor, with his heavy form above hers. "Oh God!" she cried. "Aaron, stop." Her tears stained her temples, and Blair's head throbbed at the impact of the back of head against the marble floor.

And then suddenly, miraculously, the weight was lifted off of her. The moment she could move, Blair pulled herself up and gathered her gown over her chemise. She pulled herself up to sit against the wall and watched in morbid horror as Aaron was thrown against the glass door and went crashing through it, landing on the grass of her garden. Her gaze went from the broken body of her stepbrother to the caped figure of the marquis of Hartington, who now stood over Aaron, primed, feral, his fists clenching at his sides.

When it was apparent that Aaron Rose was not going to stand up, the marquis turned towards her. Blair had seen his face twice before. First, as a smitten gentleman whom she had impulsively kissed outside La Fleur Noire. Second, as an arrogant devil come to claim his prize. When she saw his face this time, knowing that this was the man her mother saw fit to replace her fiancé of ten long years, she saw her avenging angel dressed inaptly in red and black. He breathed harshly through his mouth, and he stared at her, unmoving. Blair placed a hand against the wall behind her and pulled herself up. Her knees quivered, and she managed to stand for a few seconds before collapsing back against the wall.

This time, the marquis walked towards her slowly, holding her gaze. Blair wondered why he could not move more quickly when she was obviously distraught. It was not until he stopped two yards away from her with an uncertain look in his eyes that she realized that he did not want to appear as if he was forceful in any way.

Another man appeared just behind the marquis, one that Blair did not recognize. The marquis turned to acknowledge the presence of the man. "Humphrey," he said with a tone of authority that Blair immediately placed the man as an employee, "I have left some garbage out in the garden. Will you take care of it for me?"

Blair's gaze flickered over to the still unconscious Aaron, who was now slowly being approached by the man named Humphrey, then back at the marquis. She extended her hand towards him. "Please, my lord, will you help me?"

It seemed like enough of an invitation to him because he then stepped towards her and took her by the elbow with a firm, supportive hand. Blair managed to stand still. She took a step forward, and her still unsteady knees buckled. The marquis caught her in his arms. Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry."

The marquis took her up in his arms and asked simply, "Show me the way to your room."

Fearful the whole way that he would stumble and drop her, Blair gave quiet directions using the servants' stairwell. When they stopped in front of her bedroom door, Blair swallowed. No man had ever been inside her bedroom, least of all a stranger who was also to become her husband. Before she could reach for the knob, Dorota had come running down the corridor and opened it for them.

"You may put me down, my lord."

Dorota clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her body as she assessed her lady's condition. "Nonsense," the maid gasped. "You look worse for wear, Lady Blair. My lord, please deposit my lady onto her bed."

The marquis curved his lips, and Blair shivered at the sight. He felt the movement, and he arched an eyebrow at her. "Cold, my lady?"

Blair did not answer. Instead, she waited as he bent down to place her in her bed. For one split second, as he was bent over her and she was lying on her back, she froze in terror. The marquis quickly pulled himself up at the reaction. He looked up at the maid, who helpfully provided her name.

"Dorota, my lord."

"Dorota," the marquis requested, "can you please fetch me a bowl of water and a small washcloth."

The maid shuffled towards Blair's bathroom. Blair pulled herself up to sit and winced at the pain at the back of her head. She reached up and pressed her fingers gingerly on a bump. She winced again.

"Stop pressing on it," he commanded.

"My lord—"

"Charles Bass, my lady. My friends call me Chuck."

"My lord Charles, I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude for tonight," she said, swallowing heavily at the rawness of her throat.

Dorota stepped back into the room, and Blair turned her face away as her tears threatened to spill. Charles received the water and the cloth from the maid and murmured his thanks. "Dorota, will you give the lady and me a few moments please?"

Dorota looked over at Blair to take her final orders. At Blair nod, Dorota left the room. Blair looked up at Lord Charles. He tipped her chin up with a gentle finger, so unlike how Aaron had forced her to look. "Cry," he suggested. Blair's eyebrows furrowed. Lord Charles' hands then reached into the water bowl and dipped the washcloth in, then he raised it and squeezed it dry. He placed the washcloth gingerly against her cut lip. "It's alright to cry after what happened, my lady."

Blair closed her eyes, her lids trembling as she held the tears in. "Crying never solved anything," she said, the words falling out of her lips naturally, because she had heard her mother say the same to her since the day her father died. The cold cloth soothed the pain on her lip. Soon, he placed the damp cloth at her temple, where another quiet pain throbbed.

"My lady," he said softly. She opened her eyes and looked into concerned dark eyes. "The next time anyone tries to hurt you, or make you do anything you do not wish to do, I swear I will kill them with my bare hands."

She was captured by his gaze. "Because I'm yours?"

"Because you deserve better," he told her. And it was then that she cried. Lord Charles looked up at the antique mirror facing the bed. "Look." Blair raised her teary eyes towards the mirror and saw their reflection there. She sat in front of him in her torn white gown, her hair in disarray with a bloody cut on her lip. Behind her, he was perfection still in his black and red suit.

Blair caught her breath as she watched his reflection lean down to place a kiss on her shoulder. She turned her head to rest it against his. "My lord, there is no turning back now," she said.

Blair saw his eyes in their reflection, at the quick shift from where it had been to the guilt, and then to that shuttered look that meant she could read nothing. Lord Charles replied, "No turning back. I will have Dorota pack your things, my lady. You will not spend another hour here in this house. We leave for a hotel tonight, and for England tomorrow."

And then he was striding out of her room. Blair watched him leave until he closed the door behind him. She rose from her bed and started towards her closet. When the door opened again, she turned around quickly in hope.

"Dorota," she greeted.

The maid walked over towards Blair and wrapped her arms around her lady. "Oh my lady, I will miss you so."

"I will send for you, Dorota. If my lord will be so kind, we will be together again very soon," she promised. Her voice dropped. "What did my mother say about Aaron?" she shuddered at the very thought of her stepbrother.

"Nothing, my lady. She and Monsieur Rose await the marquis in the library." The maid leaned forward, as if anyone else could hear. "I think they will give Lord Charles anything for his silence. No one else from the party saw, but a peep from your lord's mouth and your stepbrother is ruined forever. It's not like he has a name or the pocketbook to recover from something like this."

"Dorota, my lord Charles is taking me to London."

The maid nodded. "That's what he said, my lady." She turned her head. "Is something the matter?"

"What if we meet my Lord Nathaniel there?"

Dorota shook her head and clucked her tongue. "If you meet Lord Nathaniel, you can kick his shin and ask why he could not be bothered to keep his promise?"

"But Dorota," she exclaimed, "neither did I!"

"If he had the good sense to come as he promised you, you would have married him despite what Lady Eleanor wants. Is that not right?"

Blair wondered if Dorota was right. If Nathaniel came, and everything else was the same as now, would she have married him? Everything was so easy with Nathaniel. She had known she would marry him since before Blair knew how to appreciate a man. What if she still had met Lord Charles outside La Fleur, and her mother had decided that Lord Charles was the best match for him? Blair wondered, imagining Lord Charles on one side of the room and what she remembered of Lord Nathaniel on the other.

"Never mind," she answered. "You're right, Dorota. Lord Nathaniel has sadly missed the boat. And I cannot think of a more perfect replacement."

She and Dorota spent the next hour packing her favorite clothes. She changed from her torn gown to blue traveling clothes. As she was going through her jewelry to pick the ones she would bring, the door opened and in walked Lord Charles. He saw Blair in her new gown and smiled. "We're off, my lady."

Blair smiled back uncertainly, unsure of how to respond due to his sudden change earlier. "All's well with my mother?"

"Should be," he replied. "Unless you wish to press charges."

"And drag my name in the mud along with his?" Blair said. She shook her head. "I'm well rid of this hell." She bit her lip.

"What is it, Blair?"

"I want my father's grand piano."

He nodded. "You will have it. I'll make sure of it." Lord Charles walked towards her and said, "There's one thing missing." Blair saw him place his hand in his pocket, then draw out a white satin ribbon.

"May I?"

Her lips parted. Blair nodded and held her breath as he reached up behind her. The marquis tied the ribbon in her hair. "Now we're ready."

tbc

Next chapter we're going to check back in England to see how Serena, Nathaniel and Vanessa are faring.

Let me know what you think of the developments between Blair and Chuck.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: This part went longer than expected, so you will not see Nate, Vanessa and Serena until the next update. I hope you will be happy with this part though.

Part 6

The thunder roared outside while the rain poured. Clad only in his robe and a pair of silk pants, Chuck stood in front of the glass windows and watched the torrential showers and hoped that it would calm by morning. He had traveled on choppy waters before, but this would be the first time he would do it with a lady in tow. He had no wish to nurse Lady Blair while she pitched dizzily from one side of her cabin to the other, green with nausea and unpleasant in conversation.

In truth, he wondered how he could spend even the night knowing that Lady Blair was just in the other room. When he had taken on the task of retrieving Nathaniel's bride, Chuck never considered into the equation an attraction to the young woman. When Nathaniel spoke about Lady Blair in the carriage, Chuck had pictured… nothing really. The important facts about her he of course remembered. Nathaniel had been engaged to the girl for ten years, and it was a given that she had inherited more than enough money to salvage the Archibald name. Nathaniel had called her a pretty child, and referred to big hair and a small frame. That was it.

One of these days he would sit Nathaniel down and teach him how to properly paint a picture with words. Lady Blair had been nothing close to how Nathaniel had described her. Chuck was completely unprepared for the woman, and it was unfair. Nathaniel should have given a more suitable description and given Chuck Bass a chance to brace himself against the onslaught of Blair Waldorf.

Even the letter she had written herself spoke little about her. Chuck had held the letter in his hands and skimmed through it himself. In what he had read, she sounded like a damsel in distress, and he had said the very thing to Nathaniel—a fact that the other man had not refuted.

Seeing her for the first time, on the stage of the gentleman's club he and Daniel had stumbled into in hopes of finding out more about Lady Blair's situation, Chuck had his very breath sucked out of his lungs. Not knowing that it was Nathaniel's bride he was watching, he allowed himself free rein to desire what was apparently a little innocent playing the role of the temptress. He had allowed the slow stirring low in his belly as her hips swayed, as she extended her arms and showed that expanse of pale, flawless skin. Chuck had allowed himself to imagine the sensation of burying his face in the cloud of dark hair that framed her face.

Nathaniel should really have described Blair Waldorf better than he did. He should have shown Chuck a portrait at least, so that the moment he saw her, he could have reined in his desire at first sight.

There was a flash of lightning momentarily brightening the room. At the same time as thunder crackled, there was a loud rap on his door. He walked towards the door and pulled it open.

Chuck Bass had expected Daniel Humphrey to be outside, come to ask for any last requests before he turned in for the night. Now if Nathaniel had given him a better background of Blair Waldorf, Chuck may have been prepared for the possibility that it could be Lady Blair standing outside in her robe. He registered the surprise in her eyes, and the way her gaze flitted from his face to the loose knot of the silk belt of his robe. Blair Waldorf's eyes widened briefly before her gaze flew back to her face.

"My lady," he said softly. "Is something the matter?"

He saw her tongue peek out as she moistened her lips. "I apologize for bothering you, my lord."

"Nonsense," he replied. "Who else should you come to than your future husband?" At the back of his mind he wondered exactly when he thought it best to reveal the truth to Lady Blair, that he was merely on a mission for his best friend, and that she was still on her way to marry who she always believed she would marry.

She flushed prettily, and Chuck felt butterflies flit around in his stomach where the low stirring was in La Fleur Noire. To be honest, he much preferred the warm stirring. He was familiar with the warm stirring that threaded towards his loins. These butterfly wings fluttering in his stomach were strangers to him. "I was wondering if you could help me out, my lord. My room has gone cold." She jumped at the rumble of thunder.

"Certainly," he assured her. Her anxious face broke into a relieved smile, and Chuck tamped down the urge to experience that same kiss again. He had made the mistake once, though none the wiser at the time. He had even made the brief mistake in her bedroom, when he had kissed her shoulder. Both times he had deemed the actions right, but both times, he realized now, he was in the control of some strange power that he needed to stop immediately.

If Nathaniel had told her that Lady Blair sang so, then Chuck would have expected and been guarded against the angel behind the piano. And he would not get the urge to ask her what songs she knew to sing. "Stay in my room. We don't want you to catch a cold."

Chuck strode down the corridor to the room they had rented for her, just next door to his so that she could easily come to him for help as she did. Close enough that Chuck could barely restrain himself from knocking on her door herself. He entered the room and saw that the fire was dying. He knelt in front of the fireplace and stoked the embers, then added more wood.

He heard the door close and felt her presence behind him. Without turning around, he asked, "I thought I asked you to stay in my room."

"You didn't ask, my lord," she replied. "I thought it best that this early on you were apprised that I believe in an equal marriage. It's what my mother had with my late father."

One of the things Nathaniel forgot to inform him as well. It would have been helpful to know about Blair Waldorf's propensity for acting out of the prescribed norms—such as dancing in clubs or demanding an equal marriage. Chuck suspected heavily that these were things Nathaniel did not know either. During their last conversation, Nathaniel seemed stuck on the concept of his perfect, rich, young wife.

"After all, I will be bringing a lot into this marriage," Blair added.

It was his turn to smirk. Chuck turned his head to face her and was shocked to see her leaning in so close. He cleared his throat. "I am not bringing a pittance into this union myself," he responded, unable to keep himself from countering. Chuck told himself to stop, because he should not add it to the deception and allow her to keep believing that he was her fiancé. But the smug, self-important challenge in her face was unmistakable. "Lady Blair, you are aware that I am the only heir to the duke of Devonshire, and a marquis by my own right. My father and I hold the earldom of Weatherly. The townhouse in London I am living in is my father's, but my own is being constructed at this very moment in Picadilly. I have an estate of my own in the country, with a mansion so large and fine that people from the area call it The Palace. My inherited businesses and my own equal—"

"Spare me the list, my lord Charles," Blair interrupted. Chuck's eyebrows rose. "I've had all this information since my mother dropped your name at the breakfast table."

"And you're unimpressed?" he asked. The fire was burning steady now, and Chuck turned fully towards her.

She shrugged. "I'm duly impressed, but it changes nothing. I have no need for your wealth, so it matters not either way."

Chuck stood up and in doing so, his bedrobe parted. Blair stood to face him as well, so close Chuck could swear that the warmth he felt was from her body and not the fire. "Lady Blair?"

She smiled up at him, and he felt his hold on his control slowly unraveling. "I want to love you, Lord Charles." Blair reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. "If you are who I've got for this lifetime, I want to love you. It's preferable than spending my life in the bed of a man I despise."

Chuck held himself up stiffly. He looked down at her, with her slightly parted lips, her smooth shoulder peeking out of the loose robe, her eyes half lidded. He raised a trembling hand and pushed a lock of dark hair back then tucked it behind her ear. "My lady, you are absolutely beautiful tonight." He pulled away carefully, slowly. Chuck backed away from the room. "The room is warm now. Have a good night's rest."

He had lain in bed awake that night, staring at the watermarks on the ceiling of his hotel room. From the other side of the thin walls, he heard the muffled sobbing that meant that she was holding the pillow over her mouth. Chuck had fought the urge to return to her door and take her in his arms. She was a girl of eighteen, after all. Despite the bravado, he understood how terrifying it must be to know that your life had been signed over to a stranger. If she had a choice, if her stepbrother had not been such an uncontrollable bastard, if her mother had not been so bent in marrying her daughter off, Chuck wondered if she would still be here with him.

Nathaniel should have described Blair Waldorf better, and warned Chuck that there would be endless moments when he would have the urge to take her into his arms to comfort her. Then Chuck would be armed with the most suitable responses to use so he could soothe her.

When he had convinced himself that sleep would not find him that night, Chuck reached for his pocketwatch that had been lying on the bedside table. It was nearly dawn, and they had better start moving. Chuck drew out a pair of riding trousers, a white shirt and his riding jacket. He opened his door to find Daniel Humphrey outside with a tray for breakfast.

"Right on time, Humphrey." Chuck took the tray from the secretary's hands, then jerked his head towards the other room. "If you can knock on the door for me."

Daniel gave him a confused look, then did as he was told. They were both surprised when Lady Blair opened the door already dressed in her traveling suit. Chuck raised the tray, as if it were a peace offering. Lady Blair nodded and stepped aside, allowing both men to enter her room.

Chuck pulled a chair for Blair at the small table in the corner of the room. Blair settled in and reached for a croissant as the two men sat themselves.

"I am hoping that you marry me as soon as you can," Blair said idly as Chuck sipped his coffee. Chuck stopped and arched an eyebrow at her. "There are two men in my room and I have no chaperone."

"We're engaged," Chuck pointed out.

"And as yet unmarried," Blair pointed out. To that point, Daniel agreed and nodded along. "If this spreads in the ton, I would be utterly ruined. Only destitute men will have me."

Chuck shook his head at the irony that he himself was taking her straight into the arms of a destitute man. He turned to Daniel, who had bitten halfway into his croissant. The man, having honed his skill of understanding unspoken requests from his employer, excused himself politely by a simple, "I will check on the carriage."

Alone with Blair, Chuck found himself watching the dainty actions that she made as she had breakfast. He noticed the way she always placed her teaspoon down on the saucer with the face up, just to the right side of the cup, before she lifted the cup to tip it to his lips. Lady Blair also used the fork and the knife to cut through her croissant, then laid the knife beside the remaining bread, before raising the piece of croissant, speared by the fork, to her mouth. With her left hand, she used a napkin to dab at the corners of her lips. And then when she thought he was not looking, her tongue peeked out to lick the sweetness off her lips.

"If there was anything I could do to make this transition better for you, Lady Blair, what would it be?"

She looked up at him in surprise, as if it were the first time she had been asked the question. Blair furrowed her brows, and Chuck ached to reach forward and smoothen it with his thumb. "I just want to be happy, my lord."

"Is an arranged marriage going to make you happy?" he asked softly.

Blair sighed and sat back in her chair. "It doesn't make me unhappy," she admitted slowly. "Lord Charles, I have lived my whole life knowing that a marriage will be arranged for me. My father was the Comte Deschanel. He was a shrewd businessman and a gifted artist. And he had raised me aware that in the absence of a brother, I would be comtesse. I would get everything. And I would have my marriage arranged for me."

He narrowed his eyes. "If you know nothing else, you would not fight against what you're given."

"I was satisfied with his choice. You are not my first fiancé, you know," she mentioned teasingly.

Chuck watched her eyes sparkle with humor, and enjoyed the sight. "Is that right?" he said, cursing himself for not taking the perfect opportunity to tell her about his promise to Nathaniel.

"I was once engaged to a boy, an English lord like you. But he had some problems with his family, and my mother decided to go on a hunt for a more suitable candidate for my hand." And then she shook her head. "A fiance more deserving of my father's wealth," she amended.

"And what about the boy?"

"Gone," Blair replied. She glanced out the window and noticed the light rainfall. "I was used to the idea of marrying him, but he did not keep his promise to me." She rose from her seat and picked up her gloves.

"Will you make me happy, my lord?"

His intention had been simple. Since his best friend could not come to France himself to retrieve his bride, he would do so on his behalf. Now it seemed, as he considered the other party, that it was not so simple. "I will make every effort to do so."

The honest, unambitious answer seemed to satisfy her. "Come, my lord. Let us make haste." She slipped on the gloves.

He slowly stood from the table, moving in slow motion, his eyes trained on her. The words were at the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated for reasons he knew not what. "Come, my lady. Walk with me." Blair reached up a hand, and Chuck took it in his and laid it on his arm.

Daniel Humphrey had the carriage taken to the entrance of the hotel, so that Lord Charles and Lady Blair would not need to walk the distance through the rain. He waved the carriage onwards, and for a brief moment, between the figures of the horses, he saw the glint of metal flash for a second.

"Gun!" he cried out.

He turned quickly towards the couple waiting by the doorway. He watched in horror as his master turned his back to the doorway, effectively blocking his view of Lady Blair. Lord Charles' figure jerked at the same time that he heard the crackle of gunfire.

"My lord!" Daniel stepped forward towards the shooter, who turned and trained the gun to him. Fear struck a chord in his heart, and he heard Serena's voice in his head, telling him to hide, to protect himself, to come home to her. Instead, he burst into a run. His bravado seemed to shock the man, who scampered away.

"Oh my God!" He heard the muttered prayer from Lady Blair, whose yellow traveling suit was stained with blood. She held Lord Charles in her arms, frantically patting his cheek. "My lord, wake up," she pleaded. Lady Blair raised her tear-stained eyes up towards Daniel, and he realized that he had been just standing helplessly in front of them. "Mr Humphrey, get help!" she yelled at him.

Daniel ran into the hotel and took control. He asked the man to call a doctor, and to prepare the rooms they had only just vacated. Soon, there were two men helping him carry Lord Charles up to the freshly made bed. Blood stained the white sheets. He had half expected Lady Blair to faint and quiver in fear at the sight of the blood. Instead, after Lord Charles was deposited onto the bed, Lady Blair seemed to get a hold on her reactions. She took off the bloodstained gloves and placed it on the bedside table. She leaned Lord Charles' unconscious form and commanded, "Help me lift him, Mr Humphrey."

Daniel walked over to his lord and lifted the heavy form. Blair removed the heavy jacket with effort. He dropped the bloodied cloth on the floor.

"Turn him on his stomach," she whispered. "He was shot in the back."

Daniel did as he was asked. Lady Blair stepped out of the room for a brief moment and returned with a maid following her carrying a basin of water and a pair of scissors. "I will cut the shirt off his back. We don't want to the blood to dry over the wound before the doctor gets here. It will be that much painful to retrieve the bullet."

She took the shirt in hand and positioned the scissors. Daniel grabbed her wrist. "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked, finding no reason for the lady to have knowledge on this.

"I've done this before, Mr Humphrey," she said. Daniel released her wrist. Blair carefully cut around the wound, then moistened the cloth immediately above the wound. Gingerly, she lifted the cloth off. She drew a white handkerchief from her pocket and dipped it in the water. Blair cleaned around the wound. "When will the doctor arrive?"

"The hotel manager said it will be another hour. The hotel doctor is tending another patient in town."

Blair tightened her jaw. "Get Dr Germaine. He works in the General Square in a small office that bears his name in front. Tell him Lady Blair needs him."

"And he will believe me, just like that?"

Blair pulled off her ring, one with a red gemstone embedded around the circle. "Show him this and he will know it's from me. He will come with you within a minute."

Daniel nodded. Before he left, he turned to check on Lord Charles. He saw Lady Blair sitting by his bed, cleaning out the wound.

She was right. At the sight of the ring, the doctor nodded and grabbed his bag. Daniel watched as the doctor placed a CLOSED sign at his door. On the ride back to the hotel, he started up the conversation by setting up the situation. "My lord Charles was shot just outside the hotel. The bullet is embedded still in his back."

The older man nodded. "And has the wound been cleaned?"

"Lady Blair was doing just that," Daniel replied. "I am not certain if she did it right."

"She did it right," the doctor assured him. "Don't fret."

Daniel cleared his throat. "How would Lady Blair know how to clean a gunshot wound?"

"Experience is the best teacher," answered the doctor. "She was a very good student, if a bit emotional at times. But one should understand. She was cleaning her father's wound after all." The doctor clucked his tongue. "Poor mite. She was crying the entire time she could probably barely see through the tears."

Doctor Germaine was quick and efficient. Blair and Daniel stayed in the room the entire time as the doctor extracted the bullet from Lord Charles' back. Daniel gritted his teeth as he watched the entire operation, grateful for the very gift that his lord was unconscious. When the doctor dropped the bullet into the basin of water, and the maid started to take the basic away, Blair raised a hand.

"Please leave it," she requested. "I want to keep the bullet."

Daniel watched as Blair fished the bullet out of the basin and placed it inside her pocket. She turned to the doctor and asked, "How soon before he can sleep on his back?"

"Let the wound heal for about two days, and then he can tell you himself if he's comfortable on his back," the doctor answered. "He will run a fever."

"I know," Blair answered quietly.

"You must get the fever to break before the night is over."

Blair nodded. Daniel observed in fascination as the lady spoke with the doctor about what should be in hand over the night. She turned to look at Daniel, and then back at the doctor. Blair received what seemed to be creams and medication from the doctor. She lined them up neatly on the bedside table. When the doctor left, she turned to the secretary and asked, "Are you ready for a long day?"

He had nodded then, with no expectation about what would happen. Over the day, Daniel brought pots and pots of coffee into the room. Every half hour or less, Blair would reach up and place her palm over Lord Charles' forehead. Every time, she murmured in trepidation.

"My lady, how is it that you know how to treat a gunshot wound?" Daniel finally asked. "It doesn't seem like a skill young ladies learn."

"So you have not interviewed the good doctor?" she asked lightly.

"He mentioned something about experience being the best teacher."

"My father and I used to do many things together." She smiled at the fond memory while peeking under the bandage at Lord Charles' wound. "I was his only child, after all. One of our favorite pastimes is going to the countryside to hunt. We had a small cabin in the middle of nowhere." She looked up at Daniel. "He was a very successful man, and many were jealous of him."

He grew cold at the shift in her voice.

"My mother never went with us on those hunting trips. And so it was I, my father, and his man Geoffrey out in the cabin." Blair's breath hitched. "They said it was a stray bullet, but I know better. I sent Geoffrey for the doctor. It was a half day's ride to town. I was left with my father bleeding from a bullet wound to his gut. He was awake the entire time, giving me instructions to clean his wound." She gave him a grim smile.

"How old were you?"

"My father died three years ago. I was fifteen."

Daniel stuttered. "You mean—"

She gave him a sad smile. "I wasn't a very good nurse. But I learned my lesson."

He did not ask anything else. They returned to the uncomfortable ritual of sitting, waiting and checking. And then at around noon, she drew in a sharp breath. She looked up at Daniel and informed him, "He's burning up."

She had been waiting for the fever. Night came and they worked, alternating as they placed a cold towel on his forehead. When the fever still progressed, Blair curtly asked him to run cold water over the blanket. He returned with the heavy water-laden blanket and helped her cover him with it. It seemed to soothe him until he started shivering. Daniel's eyes were heavy by dawn. She pulled the wet blanket off of Lord Charles.

"Go and sleep, Mr Humphrey," she told him. "You should rest because soon it will be your turn to care for him when I need to rest myself."

Chuck groaned at the tight pain centering somewhere on his back. He tried to raise himself by his elbows, but found it too painful to even move. The pain burned and scorched, and he hissed through his teeth.

The last thing he remembered was lying in Lady Blair's arms, the pain of the gunshot throbbing at his back. He had brief moments of sanity through the night, and felt the cool cloth all over his body.

There were brief moments of consciousness through the night. In each one of them, she was over him, surrounding him, placing a cool hand on his hot brow, or spreading soothing cream over where it burned.

"Everything will be all right, Charles," her voice said soothingly.

And then he had been cold, so very cold, and there was warmth emanating from his side. He turned his head and saw Blair's sleeping face on his pillow.

He shifted painfully, then noted that she was wearing only her chemise, with her leg thrown over his and her arm lying on his back. This was what warmed him through the night. He looked up at her face again and saw the dark rings under her eyes. It hurt, but he managed to raise himself up on his elbow and gingerly slide out of the bed.

The pain exploded on his back, and he grabbed onto the headboard to steady himself. Lady Blair did not stir despite his loud groan. He cast a quick scan of the room, noticing the bloody garments discarded on the floor. He saw himself on the mirror and saw the bandage wrapped around his torso. He turned his back on the mirror and craned his neck, seeing the spots of blood around the area where most of the pain was centered. He reached for a fresh blanket and used it like a shawl.

Chuck opened the door and crossed the corridor, then knocked softly on Daniel's door. The door opened quickly, and blearily, Daniel asked, "My lady?" And then he blinked when he saw it was Lord Charles. "My lord! You're awake." Chuck was surprised when Daniel stepped forward and placed a palm over his forehead. The secretary sighed in relief. "The fever's broken. Lady Blair did a fine job of it."

Chuck scratched his head, and hissed when the movement pulled his muscles. "She's been up all night?"

"She's been working on breaking your fever, my lord. I was going to take the next shift."

Chuck remembered waking up with her nearly naked form pressed against his body, and recognized it as a way of sharing body heat. "Be grateful you did not need to take the next shift." He grinned. "I'm grateful you didn't need to take over her duty."

Daniel smiled, not understanding what Lord Charles meant. "I'm glad you're better, my lord." Chuck gestured towards the room. Recognizing the silent question, Daniel stepped aside, "Of course, my lord." He glanced towards the door of Chuck's room. "And my lady?"

"Your lady?"

Daniel's face warmed, and he did not bother to hide his admiration. "You should have seen her yesterday, my lord. She was—she took very good care of you."

Chuck nodded. "This is why I'm here. I need you to return to England, Humphrey."

"Without you, my lord?"

"Please take down a letter for me."

"Of course, my lord." Daniel rose to get his writing implements. He filled his fountain pen and prepared the paper.

_My dearest friend,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Due to unforeseen complications, I find it difficult to return home to deliver your bride._

Chuck stopped. "You will rewrite this?" At Daniel's affirmation, he said, "Remove the last sentence. Please write instead…"

_Due to unforeseen complications, I find it difficult to return home to deliver Lady Blair as promised. I recognize that there is a pressing need to wed her. I have instructed my father's trusted secretary, Mr Humphrey, to transfer two hundred thousand pounds from my funds to your bank in the meantime. This is more than enough to take care of your need._

"How should I sign it?" Daniel asked quietly, his head reeling at the very act of writing such a ridiculous amount on paper.

_Your most loyal friend, _

_Charles_

"Take it to Nathaniel as soon as you can," Chuck instructed. It was the coward's way out, and he recognized it even as he dictated the letter. "Tell my sister I am well."

"Well?"

Chuck glanced towards the door. Only a few feet away, his lady slept in his bed. Across the channel, his best friend waited still. "Tell her I am happy."

"She will ask me where you are."

"I have no reason to keep a secret from Serena. I want to take Blair away. I will take her to visit Italy. I bought a villa in Tuscany that I am certain she will adore."

Daniel read the letter back to Chuck. Afterwards, the secretary asked, "This doesn't say whether or not you successfully retrieved Lady Blair. What shall I tell him, my lord?"

"Tell him you know nothing." And with those words, Chuck knew that he had betrayed his best friend. He pushed the thought to the back of his head. A chambermaid scurried past him as he closed the door of Daniel's room. He called to her and the woman bowed her head to avert her eyes from the naked torso under the blanket. He requested for breakfast to be sent to his room.

Chuck returned to the bedroom and found Blair stirring on the bed. He walked towards her and sat down. She opened her eyes and blinked, then her gaze climbed his body until she was staring into his eyes. She smiled up at him. "Are you well, my lord?" she asked.

Chuck felt the fluttering wings he had recognized before come back and overwhelm him. This time, there were so many that they reached his chest. He took a deep breath. "My lady, I have a desire to escape to Italy with you."

She sat up, her hair disheveled and her cheek creased with the rumpled blanket she had slept on. She had never looked more beautiful. "I have never been to Italy."

"I have a villa in Tuscany. Or we can go to Rome. I want us to go there together." He reached out and took her hand in his, then brushed a kiss across her knuckles. He held her gaze, and though it had been a widely accepted fact that they were to be wed, he asked her for the first time, "Will you marry me there?"

She smiled. "I thought the plan all along was for me to marry you?"

"This is the first time that I'm asking, so please answer the question," he requested.

Blair leaned across the bed and placed a kiss on his mouth. Chuck's lips parted, and he met the kiss. She held his gaze for a longest moment, and then she said softly, "Yes."

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably on the thin pallet. He had been vying for sleep there for days, and always it was not comfort that drew him in, but weariness. Finally, he raised himself up on his elbows and looked around the small room.

It was dark, with only the single candle serving to light the room. At the opposite end—which was not that far away—there was a figure performing the same action again and again. When he slitted his eyes he realized that it was a woman slicing tomatoes.

"Vanessa?" he called out the name of the young woman who had been taking care of him.

"You look better," was the cheery response he received, making him smile.

Nathaniel stood up and searched for clothes to wear. It was a hot night, and he had no doubt that another thunderstorm was brewing. If it rained again, he would need to assist in draining the buckets that littered the floor. They were already half full from the shower two days before. They needed to be prepared to catch any leaks on the roof this time. He remembered the devastated look in Vanessa's eyes when the last rainfall caused the leak in her home to destroy two portraits that she had done. Since she had been so kind to him, he was going to ensure none of her paintings would be damaged this time.

He walked towards her and sat on the table in front of her. She gave him a smile as she sliced the vegetables. Vanessa reached up to wipe the sweat from her brow. Nate's eyes were drawn to the drop of sweat creating a path down her temple, then to her ear. The drop of sweat trickled down her neck and naturally curved to the hollow of her throat. And then slowly, it trickled down to the shadow between her breasts to vanish there.

He cleared his throat. "Supper will be in an hour," she assured him.

Nathaniel leaned forward. "I was thinking… maybe we could go to the Bass townhouse."

She furrowed her brows as she regarded him. "Already?" she asked. "Lord Charles did say he would return with your fiancé. He's probably not even home yet."

Nathaniel shook his head. "I know Chuck," he insisted. "He's resourceful. By this time, he should have returned and completed what he's set out to do, unless there were problems."

Vanessa laid down the knife, then sighed. She saw the anxious look that Nathaniel wore. "If you are convinced that there may be something the matter, then it's best to go." She gestured towards his healing wound. "But you're not fully mended. I will come with you."

Mindful still of the faceless assassin who had tried to off Nathaniel at the docks, Vanessa had painstakingly chosen to clothe Nathaniel in garments she had collected from friends at the pub she worked in. She hailed a hackney to take them to the Bass townhouse and surrendered the few coins she had made to pay the driver. Nathaniel jumped off the hackney in front of the grand home and turned back to Vanessa, holding out his hand for her to take.

She shook her head, and Nathaniel frowned. "I'm not coming," she told him.

"Why not?"

"Look at me," she said uncertainly.

Nathaniel's eyebrows rose. He gestured to his own garments. "Look at me!"

Vanessa grimaced. "No," she told him. "Even dressed like a commoner, you clearly are a lord. I will merely stand out and be stared at."

"Vanessa," Nathaniel replied, walking up close, "if anyone stares at you, it's because they're enraptured by your eyes." She sucked in her breath at the sincere compliment. "Believe me. Now come."

Still with a trace of reluctance, Vanessa placed her hand in his as he helped her alight. For one brief moment it did not seem like she was getting off a hackney, but a grand carriage instead. From over Nathaniel's shoulder, she saw the tall mahogany door of the Bass townhouse open. And then there was a beautiful goddess standing there, with her hand clasped to her mouth.

"Nate!" the blonde lady called out.

Nathaniel let go of Vanessa's hand and spun around. "Serena!" he cried out, then threw his arms open. The goddess came running down the short stairs and through the flowered path and into his arms. She engulfed Nathaniel in an embrace, and he laughed as he closed his arms around her. Even dressed in such lowly clothes, the young woman recognized Nathaniel, to Vanessa's point.

"I was concerned, my lord," she gasped. "My brother insisted you were well, but when you did not come to the Season parties, I feared for you." Vanessa's lips parted in amazement at the sight of the cloud of golden hair that appeared like a halo around her face. Serena opened her eyes and saw Vanessa standing behind Nathaniel. "A friend?" Serena inquired as she pulled away.

Nathaniel seemed surprised, and Vanessa wondered if for a split second during the spontaneous embrace he had forgotten her presence. He turned and introduced them. "Serena, this is the woman who has taken care of me all this time. Vanessa, this is my good friend Miss van der Woodsen."

Vanessa smiled and extended her hand. "My lady."

Serena's eyebrows furrowed, then giggled. "Vanessa, Nathaniel just introduced me as Miss van der Woodsen. You should not refer to me as 'my lady,'" she corrected. Vanessa flushed in embarrassment. "My father was a Dutch millionaire, not an English lord."

"But your brother is the marquis and you're in His Grace, the Duke of Devonshire's home," Vanessa stammered, feeling adrift at the turn of conversation.

"My mother married the duke," Serena provided. "You can call me Serena." The blonde reached for her hand and squeezed it.

Despite the warmth in Serena's voice, and possibly a tad because it, Vanessa threw Nathaniel a look of discomfort. "Serena, perhaps we can wait in the parlor."

Serena nodded. "Of course. Look at me without any manners at all." She picked up her skirts and led the two into the house. She led them to the parlor and sat across of them. "So do tell," Serena requested as she leaned forward. "Something led you out of hiding and onto our doorstep, my lord. What is it?"

Vanessa observed her surroundings in awe. In the meantime, Nathaniel took the opportunity to delve into his concern. "Have you heard from Chuck?"

Serena shook her head. "We've received no updates from him."

"And you're not concerned."

"He has my father's trusted secretary with him," Serena assured Nathaniel. "He will be well."

They heard the knocker and the bell, and Serena turned in time to see the butler pass by the door. Serena turned back to her visitors until she heard the low, familiar voice sounding weary. She straightened, then shot up from her seat. "Daniel," she whispered. Serena whirled and ran towards the foyer.

Nathaniel stood up and walked after Serena. He saw Serena standing breathlessly in front of a fatigued young man.

"Mr Humphrey," she gasped.

The new arrival glanced towards the butler and then at Nathaniel. "Miss van der Woodsen." Mr Humphrey bowed his head. "I am pleased to see you again."

The butler left them to proceed to the duke's library. Serena replied, "And I you, sir."

Mr Humphrey bowed his head at Nathaniel. "Lord Nathaniel." He drew a folded paper from his bag and handed it to Nathaniel. "A letter from Lord Hartington."

"That's Lord Charles, right?" Vanessa whispered from behind Nathaniel.

Nathaniel nodded, then received the letter. "He's well?"

Mr Humphrey turned to Serena with a smile. "As well as can be expected."

The butler returned and announced, "Mr Humphrey, the duke will see you now."

Mr Humphrey bowed in courtesy, then walked towards the library. Serena led the two back to the parlor and clasped her hands together. "My lord, will you please read the note? I am anxious to learn how my brother is faring."

After Nathaniel read the letter aloud, Vanessa piped in, "That's very generous." Her head whirled at the amount. She had no concept of the figure that Nathaniel had just quoted, highlighting how out of place she was in the Bass home.

Serena shook her head. "What does this mean, Nathaniel? Is he coming back?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Can he not find Lady Blair? Anyone in Paris can point her to her home. Any dressmaker can probably lead him there." Nathaniel refolded the letter and stood up. "This does not make sense." His hand went to his side where his wound stung.

Vanessa rose to stand behind Nathaniel. "Miss van der Woodsen, we should go."

Serena threw a concerned look at Nathaniel. "Nate—"

"It's okay," Vanessa assured her. "I'll take care of it."

Serena nodded and led the two to the doorway, wanting to see them off but wanting something else even more. She closed the door behind her old friend and his companion, and then raced up the staircase and turned left. She threw open the door to her bedroom, her eyes sparking with excitement.

He stood there by the window, holding apart the curtains as he watched the hackney roll away. "Are they gone?" was his quiet question.

"I do not wish to speak of them as yet." Serena strode towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled his head down for a kiss, stumbling backwards to collapse on the bed. "I missed you so, Daniel."

He stumbled along with her, off balance as they fell onto the soft cushions. Daniel Humphrey allowed himself the brief moment without control as he sank his lips once more against those of his lover. "Serena," Daniel whispered, "I missed you too." He buried his face in the crook of her neck.

She pushed at his shoulders until he was no longer over her. When he was lying on his back, Serena's hands fumbled with the buttons of his trousers. She leaned over him with her hair falling on either side of her face. With a playful smile, she released him and climbed atop her lover. She sank onto him with a sigh.

When they were finally spent, and Serena had collapsed gasping for breath beside Daniel, she clasped his hand in hers and drew it to her lips. She turned her head to face him and pressed another kiss on his nose. "You're so beautiful," she told him, making him laugh.

"Thank you," he answered.

She rose and straightened her clothes, then turned back to him with a seductive smile. "I hope there were no French beauties that captivated you."

Daniel raised himself with an elbow to the bed and smiled back at his lover. "Only one." Serena's smile vanished, and he quickly amended his statement. "Lady Blair was an interesting character," he offered. "But it was no more than interest borne out of curiosity, Serena. In my heart, she cannot compare to you."

Confusion flickered on her face. "Wait. So you have found Lady Blair?" She shook her head. "I do not understand, Daniel. Where is Chuck? If you have met Lady Blair, then why has Chuck not brought her home?"

She noted the hesitation in his expression, and crawled back onto the bed beside him. "Daniel, what has happened? I fear there is so much I do not know."

"Your brother told me there is nothing he needs to hide from you, so this is why I am letting you know." Serena nodded earnestly. "This should not reach Nathaniel."

"Understood," Serena whispered.

"Lord Charles wants you to know that he is very happy. He is now vacationing in Tuscany, recuperating from a gunshot." Serena gasped. "He is fine."

"There's something you are not telling me still. Did you find Lady Blair? Was her family unwilling to release her?"

"We found Lady Blair. She was betrothed to Lord Charles the very day we pressed his suit."

Serena frowned. "I am unable to comprehend. Why then, if this were true, are Lord Charles and Lady Blair still abroad?"

"Serena, you of all people would understand."

She searched Daniel's eyes for a clue, for a sign, and when she found it, Serena clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling her cry at the epiphany. Slowly, she brought down her hands and clasped his hand. "Is it true?" Daniel nodded, and Serena released a harsh breath. "Chuck has run away with Nathaniel's bride?"

"It will ruin your stepbrother. He has betrayed his dearest friend."

She dismissed the warning. "Chuck will survive whatever scandal will meet them when he brings the lady back to England."

"Will he survive Lord Nathaniel's wrath, or his guilt?"

"Do not fret, Daniel," she said soothingly. "He has said so himself. He is happy. He has never described himself as such in all the days I have known him."

Daniel muttered. "Then I am pleased for him." The supper bell rang, and he hurriedly picked up his trousers from the spot where it had been discarded.

"I cannot wait for them to arrive. They will come home, will they not?"

Daniel thought back to his last sight of the marquis and Lady Blair, just before he left for the docks. It had seemed too common a sight that he had almost ignored it. One part of him, however, reacted to such simplicity that subconsciously, the image was imprinted in his brain. It was that one moment, when Lord Charles had asked for an answer to a question that had been asked before he arrived, but Daniel could guess what it was. And when she whispered her answer, and leaned for a kiss, Daniel had closed the door behind him.

"To be honest, Serena, I am not certain that they will."

"Of course they will," Serena responded with cheer. "London is home." He smiled, because it was the only honest response she would accept. "You will see, Daniel. My brother will come home with Lady Blair. I just hope to heaven that Nathaniel will be happy for them."

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

Serena entered the duke's library right after breakfast, having been called by the butler. She froze at the doorway when she saw Daniel Humphrey already sitting in one of the chairs in front of her stepfather's desk. She turned wide eyes at Daniel, her heart jumping to her throat. Daniel shook his head jerkily, in an effort to show her that he had no inkling about why they had been summoned.

Serena stepped forward and noted the other participants in the library. Her mother sat regally on the chaise by the window. At the back of the room stood stiffly Nathaniel Archibald and his parents. Serena greeted out of courtesy. "Lady Archibald. Admiral Archibald." She nodded at her friend. "Nathaniel."

Anne Archibald returned the greeting with a huff. Serena walked towards her mother, but the duke caught her attention. "Right here, Serena." Serena made her way to the chair across from Daniel.

"What is this about?" Serena asked nervously. If she and Daniel had been discovered, then the Archibalds did not have a place in this conversation. Given their presence, she had to suppose that this had something to do with Nathaniel's bride. This was the reason Daniel was here as well. Out of them all, he was the one who was privy to the most information.

It was Serena's mother, the duchess, who responded. "The Lord and lady Danvers have just yesterday returned from their trip to Paris. And they have brought very disconcerting news."

"News, that I might point out, Mr Humphrey did not bother to regale us about."

Daniel set his jaw and he looked straight at Serena. She remembered their conversation in bed, and knew that Chuck had been found out.

"It seems that my son and heir has committed a most malicious act towards the Archibalds." Serena threw a look towards Nathaniel, but her friend's face was passive and inscrutable. "According to Lord Danvers, your brother had assaulted Lady Blair's brother and spirited her away."

"Bart," Lilly interrupted in protested, "I am certain it was far less scandalous as what they made it sound like."

"Mr Humphrey," the duke turned to Daniel, "is any of this true?"

Serena gave Daniel an almost imperceptible nod. Daniel answered, "Lord Charles merely saved Lady Blair from her stepbrother's own assault, Your Grace."

Lilly clasped her hands in satisfaction. "I knew it."

Anne Archibald spoke, with her eyes narrowed. "And what of Lady Blair? Where is Lady Blair? Lady Danvers tells me that she was gone after the masquerade ball, and so was Lord Charles."

Daniel hung his head, because it had been the one fact that Charles had requested be kept a secret. "I cannot say, my lady."

"Mr Humphrey, I am commanding you to answer truthfully."

Serena watched with concern as Daniel clenched and unclenched his fists. She took a deep breath and blurted out, "My brother has run away with Lady Blair!" At Daniel's shocked regard, she provided, "This way, Mr Humphrey, it was not you that betrayed them but I."

Anne Archibald walked forward and placed the folded paper on the duke's desk. "We are not accepting this money from your son." Daniel recognized the letter as Chuck's dictated note to Nathaniel, the one he had brought from Paris. "It is laden with lies and betrayal."

Bartholomew picked up and letter and scanned through it. He regarded his secretary. "You have transferred the funds?"

"Not yet, Your Grace," Daniel responded.

Bartholomew placed the paper down, then turned his gaze to his stepdaughter. "We are at a quandary. Your stepbrother has betrayed his best friend."

Serena looked at Nathaniel again, fully expecting him to speak up at any moment. When he did not, she shook her head. "Well, Nate? Do you believe that Chuck has done this will ill intent towards you?"

The admiral spoke up. "The marquis has taken away Nathaniel's source of income!"

"Oh my God!" Serena exclaimed, bursting up onto her feet. "You are talking about another person here. She is not a source of income."

Daniel watched in admiration as Serena responded in anger. Bartholomew asked Serena to be seated. "Restitution has been offered in this letter," he calmly replied. "My son has seen it fit to give more than your immediate need."

Lady Anne raised her chin. "The Waldorf heiress is worth so much more than that, Your Grace. You are aware."

Bartholomew frowned. "I will not hand over that amount freely."

"Then tie it as well as Harold tied his wealth," Lady Anne suggested, referring to Blair's inheritance.

"Lilly?"

The duchess made a gesture to say that the decision was the duke's. Bartholomew replied, "Very well." He turned to his secretary. "Daniel, transfer the amount that Charles quoted to my stepdaughter's account. And then three hundred thousand more from mine to hers. Serena, you have your holdings in Devonshire and the lot in King Street. Your own father also left you a fleet of ships that are still trading to this day." Bartholomew turned to Anne. "She has no title, but that you have, Lord Nathaniel. How does this sound?"

"It does not compare to marrying a comtesse, and the comtesse's pocketbook," Anne replied, still fuming about losing the possibility of Nathaniel's intended bride, "but I understand your constraints given that she is not your daughter."

"You would not have had the Waldorf money anyway, Anne," Lilly finally drawled. "Lady Rose had already been searching for another man to take Nathaniel's place."

"This is a better restitution than your son's initial offer," Anne finally capitulated.

"Very well." Daniel watched in horror as Lord and Lady Archibald walked forward and shook the duke's hand. Anne Archibald walked over to Lilly and gave her an embrace. Serena stood up and regarded Nathaniel, her eyes brimming. "Then we may publish the announcement at the Gazette this Sunday."

Serena sank into her seat and covered her face with her hands.

~o~o~o~

The feminine laughter that pealed through the walls of the Tuscan villa was such change from the constant silence that the servants turned once again to watch the staircase. It happened very often now, and was not an unwelcome sound.

"Wait, no, don't!" came the lighthearted plea, then scampering footsteps.

Lord Charles only came twice a year for a visit to Florence, and when he did, it was almost always regarding the business of his estate, or to purchase pieces of art that he wished to take back to London. And so, for this unscheduled visit that rattled them all, the majordomo, head of the household, had instructed them all to be as quiet and efficient as possible.

"Be respectful always, and be only where you are needed," the majordomo had warned especially those new to the household employ. "Lord Charles dislikes nonsense. Always have a purpose for everything you do, and everywhere you are."

They had been given a mere day to prepare the house to receive the marquis. They had aired out his room and dusted his library.

"He spends two days, perhaps three, so keep the bedroom, the library and the dining hall clean. Those are the only rooms he will move about."

It had then caused a titter among the chambermaids when the marquis arrived in a carriage that had been laden with baggage. From the boxes of hats that were taken down, it was apparent that the marquis had a companion.

They had expected the marquis to nod at them all, then take his companion upstairs. Instead, they were surprised that the weary lord managed to address them. The dainty white shoe was the first sight they had of the lady. Lord Charles had uncharacteristically turned to help the lady out.

"This is my Lady Blair. I expect you to treat her with all courtesy due myself," was the simple introduction that he had done.

Cautiously, they all stared at the lady, whose hat still covered her face. And then the hat started trembling before they heard the soft laughter. "Chuck," the lady used to call to the marquis, signaling to all the degree of familiarity between the owner and the strange young lady, "I cannot untie the ribbon."

Lord Charles vanished behind the wide hat, presumably to help the lady with her dilemma. When the hat was removed, all beheld the sight of Lady Blair smiling at them. "Hello," she greeted. And then she threw a pining look at the marquis. "I miss my Dorota."

The marquis held out a hand, which the lady took. "Lady Blair is my fiancé." He turned to the majordomo. "Have the room adjoining mine aired out and prepared for my lady." He scanned the faces of the chambermaids until he stopped and recognized one. "Alejandra." Alejandra reddened, and dropped a quick curtsy. "You were Serena's maid when she summered here?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Lady Blair's beloved maid has been left in Paris. Will you stand in for dear Dorota during our stay?"

Alejandra gasped and curtsied again, and then she walked towards Blair and took the wide hat in her hands. "My pleasure, my lord. My lady."

"And also, do we have a music room?"

"Most villas in Toscana do, my lord. But yours is ill equipped."

Lord Charles gave the majordomo a grin, and the old man was so unused to the expression that he physically stepped back. "Then let us equip it. Send someone to Florentia to purchase a piano." Blair's hand rested on his, and he glanced down where they touched. He revised his statement, "Better yet, Lady Blair and I will go and select a piano ourselves."

Two weeks later, it seemed as if the lord and his lady were in no hurry to leave. Their daily excursions into Florence lasted for hours, and the stay appeared idyllic, as observed in the almost daily ritual that they waited for. With their eyes trained to the stairs, the servants watched and waited until Blair raced down the stairs laughing. Charles chased after her until he caught her and lifted her by the waist, which caused another playful shriek.

"Chuck, put me down!"

And it was with the same chase that the two went to the breakfast table. Charles pulled a chair for Blair, and she settled in with a murmur of thanks. He walked to the end of room and returned with a few wildflowers.

She received them and held them up to her nose. "Thank you, Chuck."

"Wildflowers for my wildflower."

She plucked out one and threaded it through her hair. "I'm not a dainty rose, or a sophisticated tulip?"

"No," he answered. "Only a wildflower can be compared to you, Blair."

She grimaced. "I'm a colorful weed."

"You grow and flourish anywhere in the world, beautiful still and stronger than any other flower in the field," he told her smoothly.

She broke into a smile and placed her arm around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. When she released him, he lingered for a moment, placing another kiss on her temple. "I am so happy that I'm here, my lord."

"In my dusty old Italian hilltop villa instead of the elite drawing rooms of Paris?"

She placed a hand on his cheek, then added, "With you instead of without."

His nostrils flared at the response. Charles looked up and at the servant waiting by the door of the dining room. He jerked his head to indicate his request, and the servant placed the bowl of fruits down on the table and exited the room. He looked back at Blair, and his eyes held a smoldering flame.

"A month ago I did not know you," Blair said when they were alone. She placed a kiss on his earlobe. "Today I fear I cannot live without you."

Charles glanced at the table, where the bread and fruits had been laid out. He reached for a piece of pear with his bare fingers, then held it up to her mouth. Without taking her eyes off of his, she opened her mouth to allow him to feed her the fruit. Her lips closed over his fingers.

"'Tis sweet, my lord," she whispered. "Have some."

He straightened, then cleared his throat. "We're riding back into the city today," he informed her, then sat at his place on the table.

She nodded, stifling the smile that threatened from the moment he had drawn away. He was the one who always pulled back, from their kiss on his bed when he proposed to her. Even in those moments in the closed carriage, when she would press up against him, he would be the one to pull back. "I do not want you to cut the trip short yet again, Chuck."

He shook his head. "You will enjoy this trip. I have made an appointment with the jeweler."

She smiled a smile only produced by the womanly pleasure of thinking about a new piece of bauble. "A jeweler?" she repeated excitedly.

"For your engagement ring. He will show us a stone that came straight from the Medici collection."

"Oh!" Blair had been reaching for her class, but she stopped and looked at her hand, surprise registering on her face as she regarded the ring she had always worn.

Chuck noted the glinting diamond ring on her finger, and recognized the Vanderbilt ring. This time, he ignored the pang of guilt that assailed him. "Will you wear my ring instead, Blair?"

"Of course," she answered. She pulled the Vanderbilt ring off, then wiggled her fingers. "It feels strange. I have been wearing that for three years, since last I saw my fiancé." She stood up and walked towards them, then placed the ring in his hand. "Will you return this, my lord? I have no way of searching for him, but I am certain you will find him. His name is Nathaniel Archibald and he lives in London."

Quietly, he responded, "I know Nathaniel. I will return the ring."

She smiled, then allowed him to push the chair back to give her room to move. Blair settled on his lap and held onto his shoulders. "I do not know what I have done in my life to deserve someone such as you, my lord."

He breathed harshly. Charles buried his face in the crook of her neck, placing slow, languid kisses in a trail towards the hollow of her throat. Blair threw her head back to allow him space. "Marry me," he said softly. "Marry me today."

The words edged into her consciousness, and reluctantly, she pulled away to think straight. "What did you say?"

He met her gaze steadily, unblinkingly. He repeated, "Marry me today, Blair. In the city," he rushed. "There is a grand church that I wish for us to go to. The Santa Maria del Fiore. No other church can compare. We can marry now, this very day, and you will make me the happiest I have been in my entire life."

She smiled sadly at him. "Is there ever any doubt that I will marry you?" He shook his head. "There is no hurry, Chuck. We are here so you can recover."

"I'm well recuperated," he insisted.

"I want to marry you in London," she told him. "In front of your family, in front of your friends. I am entering your life as a stranger from another country, she reminded him. "They know nothing of me. I want them to witness the wedding." She squeezed his hand. "I do not wish to be the woman you stumbled across in Paris, and married out of haste."

Charles closed his eyes tightly, unable to tell her that to those who mattered, she was already known well and wide, and that even on the day they arrived, they would be fodder for scandal.

"Will you understand, Chuck?" she said softly. "This is so they can accept me wholeheartedly as part of your life."

"I will," he answered. "Then let us go to the church for prayer instead."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, pressed now against his body as she sat on his lap. He was conscious of his own body's reaction to her proximity, and shifted in his seat. "I feel it," she whispered.

"You do?" he choked out, wondering how Blair could recognize it.

"Do you not, my lord?" she returned. "Feel how right this is?"

He released a relieved breath. "I do." He needed to marry her, and soon, or else he did not know how much longer he could control himself.

tbc

AN: Pretty please, leave me the gift of a review? : - )


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9

The excursion to the jeweler was a delightful one to Chuck. It had been the very first time that he had seen her unrestrained, eagerly poring through the collection with the abandon of a child in a chocolate shop. Of course, being Blair Waldorf, she would exhibit such excitement over diamonds. He was grateful once again that he had enough resources to satisfy what Chuck now discovered was her one guilty pleasure.

"Carolina de Medici adored this particular set," the jeweler offered.

Chuck watched the way her eyes sparkled as the mahogany box was displayed. As the jeweler was about to lift the lid, she lifted a hand in a gesture of patience. Slowly, with her fingers, she traced the carved C on the cover. And then she took in a deep breath and nodded to the jeweler.

And there, in its velvet bed, the collection lay asleep. With a small smile, she touched the ruby and diamond studded choker. "Tis almost sinful," he heard her whisper. Blair reached for the bracelet and held up her wrist towards Chuck. "Will you please, my lord?"

Chuck took her wrist in his hand, causing her to gasp and move closer to him. With a playful smirk, he set the clasp on the bracelet and watched as she proudly observed the shimmer of the stones against her skin.

"Is it not beautiful, Chuck?"

Even the childhood name on his lips sounded like a challenge. He nodded, as if consenting to a child. With his eyes never leaving her face, he answered, "The most spectacular sight I've beheld."

She flushed, and breathlessly turned to the jeweler instead of the marquis to help remove the bracelet. She returned the items, and exclaimed, "But we are here for my ring."

Chuck nodded at the jeweler, who then placed a small box on the table. Blair reached for the box with eager hands, but Chuck took it in hand first. "You must allow me the proper proposal, my lady."

Blair's eyes shone as she nodded slowly, held his gaze as he, with a smirk, got up from his seat and knelt on one knee at her feet. He lifted the cover of the box and held it up to her. "Will you do me the sublime honor of becoming my wife, Blair?"

The smile was slow to curve her lips, but was more brilliant than any precious stone in the entire shop. Blair did not take her eyes off of his when she answered, "A thousand yeses, my lord."

The answer, expected as it had been, still winded the marquis. It was, perhaps, the way she phrased it, or that her smile was so lovely. And then it occurred to him, that with the pleasure she took in poring through the jewels that had been paraded in front of her, she did not even once glance at the ring he presented. "You did not even see if the ring is acceptable to you."

"It matters not, my lord." Still, without looking at the ring, she held out her hand so that he could slip the diamond onto her finger. "I am satisfied with you."

He chuckled, then nodded towards the door. "I will settle with the man. Shall I meet you in the carriage, Blair?"

She shook her head. "I wish to walk. It's a lovely day."

"Then walk we will."

Blair made her way to the door, and Chuck watched from his seat as her ringed hand fisted and unfisted, and knew she was exerting her very best effort to not look. Knowing what he had just discovered about her, he knew it was an uphill battle that she would eventually lose. He turned back to the jeweler to make arrangements on the funds transfer. The deal was interrupted by a high, delighted squeal. Chuck turned and broke into a large smile as he saw his fiancé flying through the shop towards him.

He caught laughingly as she threw herself on him. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" she cried, jumping for joy.

"I take it you are satisfied with my selection," he prodded.

Blair held out her hand and looked admiringly at the cut stone, impressive in detail, with clarity that almost made her weep. "I was near crying when I surrendered the Vanderbilt diamond to you, because I adored it so."

"I noticed," he said wryly. "Does my ring nearly compare?"

"That it is from you, my lord, allows the ring to transcend comparison." The words carried more weight to Chuck, and his smile vanished at the realization that there was something behind the words. Blair shook her head, and brightened, so he would not have to ask. "But of itself, the ring is wonderful, Chuck. I love it."

He took her hand in his, and nodded goodbye to the jeweler. He led her out into the street and pointed out the domed tower that they were to visit. "Will you be able to walk that distance, Blair?" She held onto his hand and walked.

The Santa Maria was a large brick and mortar domed church in the heart of the city, with a history so ancient that Blair could almost, when she closed her eyes and breathed, hear the hustle and bustle of the centuries passing by her. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she made her way down the aisle. There was a young girl lighting a candle at the offertory, an older man sweeping the floor, and a black-veiled woman in prayerful silence.

The very nature of the building brought the temperature inside several degrees lower than that of the rest of Florence. She stopped halfway to the altar and raised her head, marveling at the stained glass windows that depicted different stations of the cross, different symbols from the Book. She shivered involuntarily.

She felt a warm hand grasp hers. Blair turned to see Chuck watching her carefully. She smiled, a small smile, because mirth did not seem to have a place in a sanctuary this solemn. He brought her hand up to his lips and brushed a tender kiss on the pulsepoint at her wrist.

"Qu'est-ce qui se passé?" she whispered, afraid if she were any louder she would affect the beautiful solemnity of the place.

"Je n'ai aucune idée."

"Non." Blair stepped forward and brought her other hand to close over their clasped ones. "You do."

He closed his eyes and placed another kiss on her fingers now. He turned his head towards the altar. His gaze settled on the cross, where the bloody image of Christ hung nailed and bleeding. Slowly, he turned his eyes back to hers. His lips parted, and he swallowed. "Je vous—je t'—"

She waited with bated breath. "Oui?"

Chuck took a deep breath, tried once more, and failed. His gaze was miserable when he apologized. "I'm sorry."

Sadly, she nodded. "Ça ne fait rien." Blair's eyes fluttered closed when he leaned and placed a kiss on her forehead. "In the future, maybe?"

Chuck wrapped his arm around her waist, and they made their way down the aisle of the grand church to stand in front the altar. Blair moved out of his arms and made her way to the front pew. He turned and quietly observed as she tucked her skirt under her knees as she knelt on the wooden plank and bowed her head. She was as much of an image to behold here as she was dancing in La Fleur, or singing in Paris. He looked back up at the grand images in front of him

And then he walked to the pew to sit near her, waiting, watching. She raised her head and turned to him. "My lord," she whispered.

He held out his hand, and she took it without hesitation. "We will marry in London, in front of all the guests you want. It will be the biggest affair in Society, and if you want, my father will walk you down the aisle, and my stepsister will ride with you on an open white carriage pulled by the most handsome Arabians we can find." She smiled at the image that he painted, because it seemed to come straight out of fairy tales that she doubted he read. "We will have the best dressmakers create you a gown with a train so long and grand that it would seem like a river of crystals had flooded the length of the cathedral."

"I have no need for a wedding so grand, my lord."

"But I will give it to you," he promised. "And we will make certain your friends are there, your mother if you wish her to be, and Dorota." Her eyes lit up. "Definitely Dorota."

"That would be lovely."

"But for right now," he said, his voice low and deep, "will you marry me here, without the trappings and the strangers." He held his breath, prepared for a refusal.

"And the banns?" was her first question. "Three Sundays still we have to wait for the banns to be read, my lord. By that time, we would be in England." Chuck released a breath, and she laid her head on his shoulder. And then a thought occurred to her. "We can get a license in London. Then we do not need to wait."

But she knew what he wanted, and the Santa Maria del Fiore, despite that she had only been there once, seemed the perfect setting for this personal moment. She squeezed his hand. "Before the turn of the century, anyone can be married without banns or special licenses," Blair said, almost reverently, as if it were an epiphany. "All they needed were to say the words, and a witness."

He studied her quietly, searching her earnest face for hesitation. Instead, he found a tender regard and a spark of excitement. She nodded, and pulled him with her towards the front of the church. Blair walked towards the old man who now swept dirt out the church doors. She returned to Chuck with animated eyes. "Maximo will be our witness."

Chuck shook his head. "Maximo does not understand English or French, my love."

At the endearment, she sucked in her breath. Chuck must have realized the term that fell smoothly from his tongue, and turned to the church. "And I speak no Italian," she said sorrowfully.

"I will understand you," he assured her. "That is what matters."

The veiled woman that they had earlier encountered rose from her seat, and parted her black veil. "Amanda Hardy. I will stand as your witness," she offered, speaking in smooth English. "But you are aware, this is not a legal marriage in Toscana."

Blair nodded happily. "It will be real enough for us, for now."

The woman agreed. "Life is too short to be wasted on the trappings of law or Society. Look at me, destitute and alone in a foreign country, praying for the departed soul of a musician that stole me away from my debutante Season in Almack's." Before Blair could express her condolence, the older woman cut her off. "And I have no regrets. Go on. Get married the way you want to."

Blair nodded, and turned to Chuck as he raised their clasped hands. He asked, "Are you certain that you wish for this?"

"More than ever," she answered. "How do we do this?"

Chuck's eyebrows rose, then furrowed, because of all the weddings that he had been invited to, he had never once considered reading up on how people wed before the marriage bill. "How did they do it?" he asked uncertainly. And then he turned to Amanda. "How did you do it?"

Amanda shook her head. "My musician and I did it right and proper with the banns read in this very church."

Blair bit her lip. "I think they just tell each other they're married," she told Chuck.

"There's time enough for our well considered vows during our London wedding," he said. He tightened his hands around hers. "I take thee to wife."

"And I take thee as my husband," she replied. They stood in silence, waiting for something they did not know. They looked at each other, then at Amanda, and then at the cross. "What now?" Blair blurted out.

"Well," Amanda drawled, "if this were the early eighteenth century, you two would have been married. Unfortunately, it is not." She turned to leave. "Go on home to England and marry her properly," she told Chuck, and then walked back up the aisle to the church doors.

Left alone, Blair blinked up at Charles. "We're married," she whispered.

"We are," he agreed, pulling her into his arms. "I think even last century, they ended their weddings with a kiss, Lady Hartington."

~o~o~o~o~

It was a scene straight out of some nightmare, Serena thought, as she milled about the ladies and gentlemen of the ton who deigned to flock to Anne Archibald's victory party. In fact, it was a gathering to formally announce Serena's engagement to Nathaniel Archibald, but in the grandiose manner that Anne greeted each guest, it seemed more like Lady Anne's own celebration than her own.

She searched the crowd for her betrothed, but found Nathaniel's angelic, tortured face nowhere. Since their lives had been planned right before their eyes, and the Admiral carted his son off, she had not had a chance to speak to him, and she needed to do so. Serena decided that a cup of punch would do much to reenergize her for her search. She made her way to the refreshment table when her keen ears caught wind of the conversation.

"What did you expect?" Lady Castlemaigne said in a loud whisper. "She's French!"

The three ladies tittered at the sly comment. "Honestly, to vanish into nowhere with no chaperone!" The speaker clucked her tongue. "It's in her blood, after all," added Mrs Roberts.

"And Lord Hartington is a handsome figure of a man."

Mrs Roberts shook her head. "What I don't understand is how she can commit such a grand faux pas. It's not as if she were raised by wolves. Every lady knows to get a ring to seal the deal."

"I cannot believe she would live with him out of wedlock," Kitty Addison confided. "Then again," her voice dropped into a whisper. "Some say she had been seducing her own brother for years."

"It's an affair, a scandalous affair. That's what it is. If that is acceptable behavior in Paris, she will be sorely shattered when she arrives in England."

"Poor Lord Nathaniel. But he is fortunate at least he need not worry about a French wife."

Serena's hands fisted at her sides. She opened her mouth to defend her brother and the Lady Blair. Before she could speak however, Nathaniel appeared from behind the circle of ladies and cut in. "I will have you know, my ladies, that Lady Blair had been the portrait of chastity before Lord Charles came into her life."

Lady Castlemaigne jumped off the seat. "Oh. Lord Nathaniel!"

Nathaniel raised his hand and gestured for the old woman to sit down. "If you wish to lay the blame on anyone, it should be on Charles' shoulders."

"What!" Serena protested. Her eyes narrowed, she pulled Nathaniel away from the biddies and into a private room. She jammed her finger on his chest. "Lay the blame on Chuck?" she repeated in disbelief.

Nathaniel set his jaw. His gaze flickered to her. "Blair was a sweet, innocent child when I met her. And I know Chuck. He will treat this as any one of his affairs, and she would be left in the dust."

"Nathaniel, Chuck is your best friend. You do not honestly believe—"

"I do," Nathaniel interrupted. "I should have known better than to trust him with my bride, and expect him to keep his promise."

"You must withhold judgment," she started. "We do not know how he feels."

"Feels?" Nathaniel repeated. "Do you know how he spoke of Lady Blair when I first told him about her? She is a game to him, Serena. I fear for her once she returns and learns what man she had installed her faith in. She is nothing to Chuck but a strange new flavor he wishes to try out."

"I cannot believe you think this," Serena muttered.

"My mother and father think they control my actions. Your father believes he can pay this off with your dowry," Nathaniel said bitterly. "Well not anymore. I stood in that room, ten years ago, and promised to protect that girl. And I am a man of my word, unlike Chuck," he finished, viciously spitting out the name.

She grew cold, yet her heart leapt to her throat at the same time. "What is it you're saying, Nate?"

"Your brother did not keep his promise to me. But I am keeping my promise to Lady Blair."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you going back on our engagement?"

"I'm still affianced to Lady Blair until she faces me and breaks off the engagement herself," Nathaniel answered stubbornly.

Serena fisted her hands, keeping herself from screaming when Nathaniel turned away from her and started walking out the door, back to the party. "Could you not have had this revelation when we were in the duke's library?" she demanded. "And not in the middle of our engagement party?" She called to him. "Nathaniel, come back here!" She had never been more humiliated in her life.

Angered, Serena stalked over to the door and searched the crowd. She saw him at the other end of the room, watching her. She made her way to him. "Daniel!"

"This is a lovely party," he commented.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Why are you here?"

His gaze dropped to her hand, and Serena knew, just knew because of how well she had come to known Daniel Humphrey, that he wanted to reach for her hand. In a crowded room, there was no way he would do so. "Serena, we have known all along that the day would come when you will be married off to a lord, or a gentleman of impressive means."

When Nathaniel turned her away, all she felt was the shame of humiliation, the fear of becoming a laughingstock. Hearing this from Daniel, she was afraid her heart would stop. "Daniel, Nathaniel and I are—"

He held up a hand in a request for silence, and she respected him enough to stop speaking then. "I cannot watch this play over and over again." He smiled sadly. "Aaron Rose did and it drove him half mad. I am leaving before the sight of you being pawned off to men better than I am drives me to the brink."

His hand rose to touch hers, but stopped short of coming in contact. Daniel drew a deep, steadying breath, then walked out.

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Alright. This part is purely BC. They will be back in England in the next chapter, so do enjoy the last installment of their Tuscan getaway.

This part is not for children. If you have objection to love scenes, please stop reading. I assure you though this is integral to the story and is not disrespectful is any way. This is even tamer than most historical romances.

Please review. :-)

Part 10

Atop a hill, in full view of the city and miles away from the Parisian mansion in which she had spent the first eighteen years of her life, Blair Waldorf had never felt more at home. If she thought back to the year before, to her entire life before, she would have never imagined that one day, she would wait for night to fall on the rooftop of a grand Tuscan villa and feel, under the blanket of slowly appearing stars, so alive.

"Your maid asked me to come. You had something to say to me."

She turned around and saw him walking towards her, and she held out her hands for him to take. His gaze dropped to the glinting diamond on her finger and his lips curved at the recollection of their simple exchange in Santa Maria. He took her hands in his.

"Well?" he prodded gently. "What is it, Blair?"

"I have a secret," she confessed.

"You do?"

"Do you want to know what it is?"

With a small smile, he told her, "Always."

"Good." She stepped close to him, and with that one movement she felt herself surrounded by his presence, his scent, his warmth. "I fear I can never keep a secret from you."

He brought her hands up to his lips. "I would never want you to." He ignored the pang in his stomach at the thought of his own secret, and that he feared he could not tell it, right then, when she was so perfect and trusting and lovely.

She turned around, and he pressed against her back, then wrapped his arms around her. His chin rested on her shoulder, and she leaned her cheek against his head. "This is a fairy tale," she told him. "Out here, so far away from everyone we know. This is how fairy tales begin, my lord."

"That's good," came his quiet response. "Because fairy tales end with happily ever after."

She looked out into the horizon that now slowly turned to layers of yellow, of orange, of blood red. "I'm afraid of England," she finally admitted. Blair closed her eyes against the sunset colors of the sky. Above her, she knew, the flaming sky would turn violet and ultimately black. "I'm a child," she said in self deprecation. "England is your home, and I fear that when you return, you will not be the same man."

His hold on her tightened, and he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "Will you believe me when I promise you that we will be the same there as we are here?"

She drew a deep shuddering breath. "I will believe anything you tell me, Chuck. When I agreed to marry me, I placed my full trust in you."

"Good," he whispered. "I swear, Blair. I will feel the same for you in England as I feel for you now."

"And how is that, my lord?"

He turned her around, so that she would face him. "Open your eyes," was his request. She did, and she was right. When she next looked at the sky, it was pitch black, with dots of light that were the stars come out to watch them. "This is difficult to say, because I have never said it before." Her eyes lowered to his, full of hope and glazed by the very emotion he struggled to reveal. The effort was apparent, and tears rose in her eyes. "Je vous—je vous aime. Je t'aime, ma cherie."

The moment the words spilled from his lips, so did the tears from her eyes. Blair released soft laughter in relief. "I love you too," came forth her secret. "Is it silly, my lord, to love your husband so?"

"It's a nightmare," was his teasing reply. "Successful ton marriages should always be about influence, and titles, and wealth. Fortunately, we have it all."

"Don't we?" she agreed. Blair looped her arms around his neck, and in response, he hooked his arms under her knees and shoulders. "This is perfection."

He met her lips for a kiss and walked back towards the door. He entered the house and strode through the corridors. As he was about to take her to his room, Blair stopped him. "My bedroom, my love," she requested.

Chuck stopped short, and stammered, "Of course." He turned to the next door, and Blair reached for the knob herself, pushing the door wide to reveal the candlelit room to his surprised eyes. He released a relieved sigh. "For a moment there, I was afraid you were going to ask me to deliver you here and leave for my cold bed."

He crossed the threshold with his bride in his arms, and set her gently on the bed. And when he looked down at her, in her simple cream cotton dress and her abundant hair spread on the white sheets, lying there, smiling up at him, he felt his body respond more quickly than it had before. At the same time, her welcoming smile held such innocent trust. "Blair, you are aware that by law we are yet unmarried."

Her smile vanished, and she pulled herself up to sit. "In my heart we are," she told him. Blair reached up to lay her hand on his arm, then tugged. "In yours?"

"Of course," he told her, his heart clenching at the hint of a anxiety in her voice.

"Then what is the matter, my lord?"

"I do not want you hounded by regrets after we can no longer change it."

She stood to face him, and started with the top button of his shirt. Slowly, she parted the shirt with deft fingers, with a permanent flush to her face that told him how nervous was and bravely she acted then. She glanced shyly up at him before bending to place a kiss on the patch of skin she revealed at his throat. "I will love no other," she said softly, "and I will regret nothing of tonight."

The simple act took his breath away. With practiced fingers, he undid the lace doing up her dress, turning it into a puddle of cotton at her feet. His hands covered her trembling ones as he helped her undo his buttons. The entire time, he kept his gaze on her face, careful to detect any hint of fear and uncertainty. Instead, he watched her as she eagerly explored with her eyes.

"You can touch," he assured her, his tone intimate, gentle, inviting. Her eyes fluttered back to his face. "Touch me anywhere. You will not hurt me."

Gently, hesitantly, like butterfly wings, her fingers brushed against the skin of his stomach. He drew in a sharp breath at the briefly maddening sensations. Her nervous gaze turned playful and flirtatious when she realized the reaction she could coax out of him. "Are you certain it doesn't hurt, my lord?" she teased.

His eyes narrowed. "So do you want to play this game, Blair?"

She shook her head. "This is no game," Blair told him.

He caught his hands in his, then slowly brought them down to the buttons of his trousers. "You decide when," he told her. And she took it as a challenge. With still clumsy fingers, she undid the buttons of his trousers, but kept her grip of the material, holding it up. "Tell me if you are afraid, at any point, if you are uncomfortable, if you are unsure, and we will stop all this."

And it was what she needed. Blair opened her hand and let go of the cloth. He stood in front of her with a smile, with her only wearing a thin shift, her stockings and her shoes. He drew her against his body, and met her lips for a kiss. Her arms rose to wrap around him. Soon, she was lying back against the pillows and he loomed above her. "Good?" he asked huskily.

Blair nodded, then watched closely as Chuck sat up by her feet. He held up one ankle, then slid off her shoe, dropping it soundly onto the floor. And then he worked on the other and slid off her stockings. It was a slow and arduous process for Blair. She bit her lip as Chuck rolled down the stockings with a glint in his eye. She giggled as he moved his hand up her thigh.

"I'm glad you're enjoying this," he said. And then he climbed up onto the bed beside her, stopping to bury his face into her stomach. Blair gasped in pleasure as she felt his lips move up and over to the laced bodice of her shift. He held himself up by his elbows, and took the ends of the ribbon in his fingers. Slowly, he pulled the bodice open and revealed one creamy rose-tipped breast.

She reached out and threaded her fingers into his hair. With a gentle push, she led his lips to the exposed breast. Her lips parted when he felt his warm, wet tongue wrap around her nipple. "My lord," she breathed.

Her head spun at the overwhelming sensation. Her grip in his hair tightened when he moved to nurse the other breast. "Mon Dieu," she gasped, feeling the stirring low in her belly.

And then his palm was warm over the faint stirring sensation. He moved his hand around in circles, massaging her over her shift. "Blair," he said, his voice strained.

She sat up, shivering at the cold air against her wet breasts. Blair helped his pull off his underpants, and stared at the sight of him, bare and straining against his leg. Her frantic gaze slammed into his warm, cautious one. "Chuck," she said, and sounded afraid once more.

He covered her mouth with another more fervent kiss, and moved over her body. She felt him pressed against her leg, hard, insistent. She took a deep, calming breath.

"That's it," he coached into her ear. "Deep breaths. Keep calm. But if you are still afraid, tell me. I will stop."

"No," she responded. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Tell me what to do."

"Anything you feel is right."

And then his fingers were down there, teasing her, probing, pushing inside. She tensed momentarily, until she remembered to breathe. Blair knew this was not the first time he coupled, and it was apparent in the deft movement between her thighs. He knew exactly what to do. Her legs parted of their own volition, and she felt the darkness creeping in from the corners of her vision. With only his hand to guide her, she squeezed her eyes shut and exploded under his skillful ministrations.

And then she was gasping for breath, and he was smiling down at her, delighted. He placed a kiss on her slack mouth. "You were beautiful."

Blair gave a satisfied laugh, but did not rise. Her limbs felt heavy as she lay beneath him. She could feel his length still straining against her leg. She tested it, and moved her leg. He sucked in his throat in discomfort. "And what of you, my lord?"

"It's fine, Blair," he choked out. "Rest."

"No," she insisted. "I'm ready." She reached down and took him in her hand, causing him to hiss at the sensation. Blair bit her lip, then tightened her drip. When he hissed again, she smiled. "Kiss me." He obliged, moving over her body higher to meet her lips. Her legs parted to cradle his hips, and her heart thumped wildly inside her chest as the movement caused her length to rest against her. "Come, my lord."

Chuck closed his hand over where hers rested on his length. He pressed kisses against the hollow of her throat, then moved to create a burning trail of wet kisses back to her breast. She gasped, and her free hands grasped at the sheets as he started moving against her, causing fiery threads of sensation inside her, driving her to the brink. "Take a deep breath," he said, raising his hips, and she did.

And then he was moving above her, sliding in slowly, so deliciously painful as he stretched her. Her free hand reached up to grip the headboard. Her other hand left his length and rested on his back instead. All along, he did not let go of her gaze. He was halfway inside when she closed her eyes tightly, priming for the pain she was certain would come.

"Open your eyes," he requested again, for the second time that night.

Blair grimaced, because she had seen him and she knew that it would not be pleasant. Dorota had warned her when she first started running off with Isabel and Kati, about the painful nature of the act, and then proceeded to tell her stories of love and the ultimate expression of love. Chuck had asked her if she was certain, and she was. This was how she would show him she loved him. Her eyes fluttered open despite the present and impending pain—her dark eyes trained on his.

And then he surged right on through, and the pain was overwhelming and burning when he broke through her hymen. Blair blinked away the tears, unwilling to show him the pain, but they rolled down her temples instead. He stopped, fully inside her, and kissed the tear tracks.

"I'm sorry," she gasped.

"I promise the pain will be gone in a moment," he said. And she felt his palm between their pressed bodies, warm against her naked belly, moving in soothing circles.

He was true to his word. Within seconds the stirring returned without the burning pain. "Blair?" he said softly. She nodded. And then he lifted his hips, causing the sweetly agonizing sensation of his body sliding out of hers. And then he slid in, causing another fissure of pleasure. He moved in and out of her body, until she wanted so much that she raised her legs to wrap high around his hips.

"Chuck!" she cried out, when the sensation had become so overwhelming that she felt she was about to explode. "Chuck!" she repeated, as he pushed in and out more forcefully, faster and faster until the pumping was more erratic, less calculated, abandoned. Stars exploded beneath her eyelids, and her legs would have fallen off their embrace of his hips had he not held onto them until he himself exploded, deep inside her, spurting in her womb and collapsing heavily on top of her.

It could have been minutes, or hours, or the entire night. He stirred from above her and pulled himself off and out of her. Blair winced at the movement, which did not escape his eye. Still naked, Chuck padded towards the table where there was a bowl of rosewater and a small cloth. He turned to her, and she explained, "I asked Alejandra to prepare it, even before I met you at the roof."

He smiled and picked up the materials then walked over to Blair. She reached for the cloth, and he shook his head. He rinsed the cloth in the rosewater, then squeezed most of the water out. He leaned over her and placed a lingering kiss on the corner of her lips.

And then he pressed the cool cloth against her sore body, and Blair breathed in relief. She fell back on the pillows and allowed his ministrations as he cleaned her, washed away the traces of blood and himself on her inner thighs. "I love you," she reminded him from her place against the pillows. "I'll love you forever," she promised.

He nodded, rinsing the cloth against in the rosewater and then cleaning himself. He placed the bowl and the cloth on the floor, then climbed into bed beside her, pulling her body flush against him. "Moi aussi. Je t'aime." He placed a kiss on her temple as they fell asleep, wrapped in each other, over the soiled, bloodied sheets.

It was the rapid knock on the door that woke him. He gathered his faculties fast enough only to see the doorknob turning. Chuck grasped the blanket at their feet and pulled it up over their naked bodies. Blair still slept in his arms, burrowed deeply at his side.

Alejandra entered the room with her bowed head flushed red, and she avoided looking the marquis in the eye. She placed a heavy breakfast laden tray on the table. The maid stumbled around the room, searching for something. He remembered Blair mentioning the night before that the maid had prepared the rosewater, and so, taking pity on her, he called out, "Aqui, Alejandra."

The maid scurried over and picked up the bowl of pink water and the wet towel, then left hurriedly.

Chuck turned to his bride, still sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the maid's stopover. He grinned in pride, noting how he had apparently completely exhausted his virgin bride. His stomach growled, and shifted uncomfortably. He dropped a kiss in Blair's hair, then reached for his trousers to put them on. He then walked over to the breakfast tray and picked up a ciabatta. He tore a piece and placed it in his mouth. His eyes fell on the letter and picked it up, considering whether or not to open it now, knowing anything from home would break the protected world he had built around himself and Blair.

"What is that, my lord?"

He turned around with the letter in his hand, and was treated to a sight. His bride sleepily rubbed her eyes, her dark hair in wild disarray around her face, the blanket gathered around her waist, leaving her bare from the waist up. "Good morning, my love," he greeted. He picked up a glass of fresh grape juice and handed it to her.

Blair reached for the glass and sipped, then slowly brought it down, realizing that she was wearing nothing. She handed the glass back to Chuck and burrowed under the covers.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Blair," he assured her.

"Bring me a dress," she demanded from under the sheets.

He shook his head. Chuck walked back to the breakfast tray and picked up the small bowl of sliced fruits. He placed it on the bedside table, then unbuttoned his trousers. He slid into the bed and dove under the covers as well. Blair blinked up at him in surprise. "Where are my clothes?" she asked.

"We are both wearing nothing, my love. Why so ashamed? You are beautiful." With a smile and a large movement, he threw the covers off both of their bodies. She squealed, and he caught her around the waist and pulled her to him until she fell against him. In broad daylight, he cupped her right breast in his hand and told her, "I will make certain that you are never ashamed of this. You are beautiful, and you were made to be loved, Blair."

The mirth seeped out of her eyes, and she lowered her head to his for a kiss. She spied the bowl on the bedside table, and reached for a piece of grape. She popped one into her mouth, then reached for another one, only to grab one bunch. She held it up over his mouth, and he plucked one with his lips. "You make it all easy."

"It will always be easy between us, my love."

She knelt above him, with her legs on either side of his hips. She cupped his face and dropped a kiss on his lips. "Do you promise?"

He rested a hand on her hips, and helped her settle above him. He positioned himself at her entrance, and swallowed deeply as she sank onto him. She threw her head back as she slowly took him in inch by inch. "Breathe," he said again. And when she did, he sank more deeply into her.

And then she moved over him, and it seemed so natural even as he guided her. "Do you promise?" she repeated. "Promise me it will always be like this."

"Forever, Blair." he gasped out. "I promise you."

And they were so wrapped up in each other that the letter from England lay abandoned on the bedside table, their movements knocking it onto the floor.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11

_My darling brother, Lord Hartington,_

_If you have once cared about me, about your dear sister's sanity, you will come home post haste before I throw myself off the rafters. Your decision, as much as my heart supports it, has caused quite a stir and my world has been thrown upside down. They are foisting Lady Blair's true fiancé on me, and we are to be married soon._

_Daniel Humphrey has left our family's employ. I know he was a loyal servant to you in France. Perhaps you can exercise your influence to make him stay._

_PS_

_I do not know the reason Mr Humphrey is leaving. _

_Hoping for your kind response, _

_Serena_

Chuck folded the letter and slipped it back in his pocket. The cabin door opened, and he turned to see her enter in a primrose traveling dress. "And the sun enters my room," he greeted.

"Good afternoon, my lord." She nodded towards the window. "We have arrived."

He noticed the downcast eyes, and walked over to her. Concerned, he inquired, "Is something the matter, Blair? I had hoped you would be happy to be back on dry land."

She gave him a tight smile, then told him, "I would much rather be back in our little villa."

It had been a frequent discussion between them, and he knew entirely how much she opposed the idea of coming to London so soon. "My sister needs me. And all along, you knew we needed to come home."

"Of course," she answered softly.

"There is nothing to fear," he assured her. "I will be with you all the time. Do you not trust me?"

"What a silly question, my lord. You know I love you." She turned her head away, and spotted her yellow hat on the bed. Blair picked it up, and placed it atop her head, then tied the ribbons under her chin. "Come then, my lord marquis. It is time to return to your old life."

Blair turned towards the door, and Chuck caught her hand to stay her. He is taken aback by the sight of her eyes brimming with tears. "You are still so afraid. I wish I knew how to reassure you, Blair."

She put on a brave smile. "This is silly," she admitted. "And I will never mention it again."

"Blair, do you believe that I will leave you?"

She hesitated, and then stepped back close to him. Blair looked up into his solemn eyes, and admitted, "You adored me in Paris, when I saved your life. You loved me in Tuscany, because it was only you and I." He opened his mouth to refute her statement, but she hushed him with a finger. "The moment we are off this ship, Chuck, you will be Lord Hartington and we will be thrust into the center of your Society, not mine. Be honest. Before you came to France, can you say that I was your only marriage prospect?" Slowly, he shook his head. That much he could reveal. She swallowed hard. "I do not want to be in a strange new city left penniless and alone."

He closed his eyes, eerily because he understood exactly what she meant. Lord Hartington did not need to go to France to find a rich heiress to wed. He could have gone and found one in England and there would not have been the inconvenience of transferring funds from a Parisian bank to a London one. "You are right," he gave in. "You cannot be left penniless and alone. In Paris, you could come to your mother for your allowance. And your money will be transferred to me once we're married."

"Am I silly, my lord, for thinking of all of these?" Blair sighed. "It is what it is."

"No," he pronounced. "You are intelligent." His fingers played with a lock of hair that fell over her shoulder. "I am impressed." Chuck walked over to the desk and wrote something on a piece of paper, then handed it to her. She glanced at the writing, and saw it as an address. "I propose a deal."

"A deal, my lord? You will strike a deal with me?" Somehow, the word made her smile, made her feel important.

"I can think of no better match for a deal than you," he told her.

Blair smiled, then nodded. "What are the terms of this deal, my lord?"

"As I see it, we both have needs here. You have a need for security, and I have a need for a happy bride." She grinned. "Your funds are in your name, yet will be under mine once we wed. I have come up with a solution that should satisfy you."

"You have?"

"The address I have given you is for my solicitor in Oxford Street. You will ask the driver the take us there before we go to my townhouse. We will ask him to draft a contract between you and me. When you marry me, your funds will remain in your name, and you will have full control over it. I think that answers your fear of being left penniless and alone in London."

Her lips parted. "You will do that?" she asked, astonished.

"As I said, Blair, unlike your other suitors, I have no need for your wealth."

"And you still want me?"

The question, more than any of her other strange ones that day, surprised Chuck. He pulled her closer to him, pressing her against his length, then placed a lingering kiss on her lips. "Is it so hard to believe?"

Blair met his kiss, and then placed a gloved hand on his arm. "Yes," she answered. "But you're changing my mind every day."

"So it is a deal, my love?"

"If you are certain," she said, "because it is a deal that works only to my advantage."

"A happy wife is always to a husband's advantage," he told her. "I hope this quells your fears, Blair. London is not a monster threatening our lives." He walked to the door with her, knowing full well that their baggage would be taken to their carriage by the crew. "In fact, if you let it, London will be glad to become your home."

~o~o~o~

Nathaniel Archibald looked up from his newspaper as Vanessa stepped into the room. He thanked the butler who ushered her in. He greeted her with a smile. "Vanessa, it has been a while."

"I heard about your engagement," she said uneasily. "I wanted to say—congratulations. And—well—I wanted to check on your wound one last time."

He stood up without hesitation, and unbuttoned his shirt. She bit her lip as Lord Nathaniel bared the scar. Vanessa walked over to him and tentatively placed her fingers on the mark, then pushed gently. He breathed steadily, not wincing, not showing any evidence of pain. "Tis all but healed."

When she drew her hand away, Nathaniel caught her hand. "I am grateful for your care."

Vanessa's eyes fell to where their hands met. She pulled away. "I was paid generously."

"By Charles," he finished for her. At her nod, Nathaniel turned away and walked over to the end of the study. He took a bottle of port, and poured himself a glass. He looked at her and lifted the glass in offering, but she shook her head. Nathaniel brought his own glass over and sat back on in the armchair. He gestured to the chair across from his, and she settled in as well.

"You know, you may not be living in my home anymore, and I may not be your caretaker this time, but you could always talk to me," she began. "And right now, I feel that you need to talk."

He tipped the glass to his lips and gulped the liquid. Nathaniel settled back into the chair and assessed his visitor. She looked at him as if she admired him. She always looked at him like that, and in some days, it irritated him that she could like at him like that when he had done nothing noble or heroic apart from get stabbed and be a burden. Did she not need him to prove that he was worth those looks, instead of giving it away so easily?

"You are belated in your felicitations, Vanessa," he informed her. "Serena and I have been engaged for some time."

"I am not a part of the circle that gets news like this so early," she reminded him.

Abruptly, he said, "I do not wish to marry Serena van der Woodsen."

Her eyes widened. "From what I have heard, Lord Nathaniel, Serena van der Woodsen is the most beautiful debutante of the Season. Why would you not want her?"

"His grace is using her as consolation prize," he shared. "Serena is a lovely girl. She does not deserve to pay for her brother's betrayal." He made his way back to the bar and instead of pouring there, he brought the bottle back with him. Nathaniel poured himself a glass while he sat. "Chuck played another game—this time with an innocent child whose only part in this was that she was engaged to me for ten years—and won again."

"What do you mean?"

"He has gone and run away with my bride." Vanessa gasped. "That's right. The bride I had come to collect when I was attacked. The bride he swore he would retrieve and take care of. For me. He has gone and run off with her."

Vanessa sighed, having created a more or less concrete picture of Nathaniel's disdain. She remembered Lord Charles from the night she rescued Nathaniel. He had not been the most pleasant person to meet, but he had stepped up for his friend, and volunteered to take on a stunted mission. She moved forward, and placed her hand on his leg. His gaze fell on it, and she hastily removed her hand. It had been so much easier when he was wounded, and she could comfort him that way. This time, Vanessa felt overwhelmed with his world, and every action she did seemed inappropriate. "I have no wish to take sides, my lord, but it is possible that Lord Charles did not do this to spite you."

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "If it is a lack of control you are referring to you, I assure you it cannot have been the reason. Charles Bass has more control over his actions than any normal human. He calculates all his actions long and well; he plans and he executes to perfection—all for his desired outcome." Nathaniel shook his head. "And this is why I trusted him with Lady Blair. He had never shown me he could betray me like this."

Vanessa smiled. "Then would you say that it was rather unexpected?"

"Yes," Nathaniel muttered.

"Even out of character?"

He glowered at her. "Out of his control, is that it?"

"It can happen, my lord," Vanessa emphasized. "When two people are thrown together, in such unlikely circumstances, it can happen that they fall in love."

Nathaniel met her eyes. "And if they are in their right minds, they will immediately realize that unlikely circumstance is but a small portion of their lives, and they will return to the real world soon enough," he pointed out. He stood and turned to her. "I have a mind to visit an old acquaintance. Would you join me?"

She was surprised at the sudden turn of the conversation. Vanessa stood as well, then nodded. "I am not dressed for a visit to any of your aristocratic friends." And then she added, "Of course, I doubt you will take me to visit any of your aristocratic friends."

Nathaniel glanced at her, and Vanessa shivered as he looked at her appearance from head to toe. "You're fine," he said offhandedly.

They arrived at their destination about fifteen minutes later. A young woman, with straight blonde hair that fell to her waist, opened the door. She was dressed in a smart teal walking dress that was cut with a low décolletage, and instantly brightened when she spied Nathaniel. "It's been a long time, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel nodded and greeted her. "Alicia. This is Vanessa, a dear friend of mine."

Vanessa and Nathaniel entered the house, and Alicia led them to the parlor. The blonde smiled at the two and offered, "Would you like some tea?"

Nathaniel arched his eyebrows at Vanessa, who answered, "Yes, if it will not be bother."

"Of course." Alicia left the two to fetch some tea and scones.

When Alicia was gone, and they were left alone, Vanessa glared at Nathaniel. "You have taken me to your mistress' apartment!" she said in a loud whisper. "I cannot believe you would do that."

Nathaniel grinned. "She is not my mistress, but stay anyway. I would like to remove certain notions from your head."

Alicia returned with the tea and scones, and placed it on the center table. She sat down on a chaise and turned to Nathaniel, while Vanessa reached for a scone and munched on it, glaring at the lord all the while. Alicia asked, "So what is it that I can do for you?"

"My friend is coming home from America, and he spotted you last year in the Carlisle ball. Ever since he has been asking about you," Nathaniel began. "Rich, young, handsome, and a baron. Would you be interested?"

Vanessa watched Alicia's reaction closely, and the blonde merely laughed. "Nathaniel, you are aware of how possessive Lord Charles is."

"Oh! So Charles is still supporting you?"

"Handsomely," she answered. Alicia glanced at the grandfather clock at the corner of the room. "Speaking of whom, Charles is returning soon and I need to visit Debenhams for new clothes. He has asked to see me when he returns." She turned to Vanessa. "Does Nathaniel just love it when you wear new gowns just to please him? Charles is like that."

"We can drop you off," Nathaniel offered.

Alicia waved off the offer. "And have to find a way to return home with my packages? Charles does provide enough for my private driver." She groaned. "But I had so wished I could rest for the day so I would not be too tired for Charles. I requested the modiste to come for a house call, but I was informed there is a large order from the Bass townhouse that they needed to finish today. Do you know anything about that?"

Nathaniel was about to answer, but Vanessa could not keep her silence anymore. "Maybe, Alicia, Lord Charles placed an order for an entire new wardrobe for his new bride!"

Alicia cocked her head, then nodded. "It makes sense. You are probably right." Vanessa's jaw dropped at the reaction. Alicia turned to Nathaniel. "That reminds me. I am sorry to hear about the whole mess with Lady Blair, Nathaniel. You know once Charles fancies something, he becomes obsessed with it. And you," the mistress continued, smirking now, "dangled a new, French girl in front of him—a virginal forbidden fruit. That was a little naïve, don't you think?"

"I have since considered the stupidity of that decision," Nathaniel surrendered.

"Do not fret," Alicia assured him. "It is but a passing fancy. He will apologize to you and you will become fast friends again."

Vanessa shook her head. "It's not a passing fancy if Lord Charles is bringing her home. He probably intends to marry her."

Alicia chuckled, then glanced at Nathaniel in disbelief at the naivete of the girl she supposed was Nathaniel's mistress, because only mistresses agreed to step foot in another mistress's apartment. "Of course, he will marry her, my dear. Men like Charles and Nathaniel will always have ladies like Blair and Serena in the home, and women like you and I on the side." Vanessa cringed when Alicia placed a hand on her cheek to cup fondly. "Be grateful that this is how it is. You and I will always have love."

"So mistresses never get left?"

"When we do, if we are good, then we are left with more money than a lady divorced by a lord." Alicia turned to smile at Nathaniel. "Where did you get her? She is a delight!"

"At the docks," Nathaniel answered laughingly. "But she is not my mistress, Alicia. She is my friend."

Alicia arched a knowing brow. "Vanessa, if this is true, and you want to live a comfortable life, come back here without Nathaniel. I will take you under my wing, and we will find you your very own lord to love and who will take care of you."

It was a turn that he did not expect. Abruptly, Nathaniel told Alicia that he and Vanessa were leaving. They returned to the carriage and started off. While they shook over the cobbled streets, Vanessa called his attention. "I understand the point you were making, Lord Nathaniel."

"Good," he told her. "Disabuse yourself of the notion that love made my best friend betray me. Love had nothing to do with it."

Vanessa turned to the window, unconvinced. "I have never seen you in such a dark mood before, my lord. You are not a pleasant companion," she informed him.

"I will take you home, and hope you have learned something today."

"Are you certain you want to be alone?"

He gave a sad smile. "I want to be alone. Sadly, I will not. I have been invited to the Bass townhouse for dinner. We are welcoming the happy couple, who are to arrive this afternoon."

"Why would they invite you?" Even without having been raised in society, Vanessa could tell the invitation was in bad form.

"Despite my own desires, I am part of the Bass family now. I am still Serena van der Woodsen's fiancé." He frowned. "It works better for me," he told her. "How else can I talk to Lady Blair?"

Vanessa smiled sadly. "I wish you will recognize love when you see it. And then maybe you will not need to break anyone's heart." Nathaniel was confused at how much Vanessa seemed to have invested in her crusade for Blair and Chuck. "But you can be so blind, Nathaniel." There, her hand squeezed his once more.

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12

"My love, we're home," he said, gently shaking her awake. For a moment, she buried her face into his sleeve and rubbed her cheek against the cloth, in a movement so familiar because she often did it as they lay in bed at night.

She smiled up at him with sleepy eyes, and he saw the exact moment she felt different, because her expression transformed. Blair swallowed and made a choking noise. "My head is spinning," she told him.

The moving carriage slowed to a stop. "It is the travel on these cobbled streets. You have been too used to the rocking of the sea."

The imagery that his words recalled was of the waves, and her vision spun again. She closed her eyes to steady herself, and felt his hand close over her elbow as he helped her down the vehicle. "This is unpleasant," she told him.

"Keep your eyes closed. I want this to be a surprise." With a smile, she nodded. "Hold onto me."

She clutched at his sleeve and felt the firm ground under her feet. Blair felt the warm air on her cheeks.

"Open them."

She did, and squinted for a second at the bright sun. When her eyes adjusted, she saw the structure in front of her. The first thing she focused on was the black door, framed by two large medieval columns leading to a high stucco arched entryway. On both sides of the doors were rows of tall windows gilded by golden metal. The second storey boasted of four separate iron balconies that seemed too airy to carry the weight of a single potted plant.

She was silent as she scanned the architecture. Beside her, he shifted on his feet. "There's a garden at the back, to remind you of Florence."

Blair turned to face him, with question in her eyes. "You want me to tell you that it's beautiful," she realized out loud.

"You will be the first person, save the servants, to step inside," he told her. "This will be our London home."

She remembered the way he had recounted his means when they were in Paris. Blair said, "This is the Piccadilly townhouse that was under construction."

"I wanted it finished for your arrival. And had them add the garden specially for you."

Blair rose on tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek. "It's wonderful, Chuck."

He breathed in relief. Chuck leaned his forehead against hers. From the periphery of his vision, he noticed two women stop at the street, watching them. He stiffened, then pulled away from Blair. "Good afternoon, my ladies," he called out curtly, causing the women to nod and hurry away. Turning back to her, he told her, "It would do us well not to forget that we are no longer in the safe haven of Italia."

"Did I not tell you?" Blair whispered, feeling the loss of proximity. She had been too used to his presence, to the closeness and the touches that they had been comfortable with in their Tuscan anonymity. "We will change here."

With his hand supporting her by the elbow, he led her into his home. They stopped at the foyer, where they handed their coats to the butler. She unlaced her hat and placed it on the high table.

Blair remembered her arrival in Tuscany, and found it odd that there was no one waiting apart from the butler. "Am I to meet your staff, my lord?"

"You shall," he assured her. "But not today. As much as I would like for you to stay here, in the bedroom I have had furnished for you, you cannot."

Her face fell at the prospect of spending even a day away from him. "But this is our home."

"And it is. But for now, until we are wed, I must ask you to live in the Bass townhouse with his grace's family." He saw the disappointment in her eyes. "It will be for a very short time, my love. And then you and I will be husband and wife."

"Three weeks?" she asked.

"One."

She brightened. "But the banns?"

He gave her a self-assured smile. "I will purchase a special license for us. My stepmother, the duchess, has made arrangements. There is no need to wait."

Blair nodded. "How kind of her." And then she remembered what he had mentioned a moment ago. "You have had a bedroom furnished for me?"

He took her hand and walked with her to the stairs. The staircase was long and winding, and she ran her gloved hand over the mahogany banister. At the top step, he gestured towards the wooden doorway carved with an intricate curving pattern. "There's the bedroom of the lady of the house."

"And where is the lord's?" she asked, with a teasing glint in her eye. "I would expect to use it more."

She leaned forward for a kiss, and he answered it with a peck on her cheek. Blair bit her lip when he quickly pulled away. Chuck cleared his throat. "I must pay a visit to my father, Blair."

"And what of me, my lord? Do you wish for me to go with you now? After all, you will deposit me into his household."

He shook his head, then pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I will present you tonight at dinner, to my parents and my sister."

She gasped. "I am to meet your family tonight, my lord?" She looked frantically towards where her baggage was being carried into the house. "I have no suitable garments." They had left Paris in such rush that she had no time to take her beautiful gowns, and only had clothes she had bought from Tuscany. In their little villa, which was a world all their own, it never mattered that her gowns were not as fine as the ones she possessed in France.

He pulled her with him towards the bedroom, and pushed the door open. Blair gaped at the sight he revealed, of three women puttering around the bedroom, surrounded by riding habits, traveling suits, evening gowns, day dresses, boxes and boxes from the milliners and rows and rows of shoes. "Chuck!" she gasped. She ran to the center of the room and picked up a pair of satin gloves. She raised the accessory to her cheek, then smiled up at her fiancé. "This is… stunning. This is wonderful." She ran back to him and threw her arms around his neck. "All for me?"

"Everything for you," he murmured. Chuck nodded at the woman who stepped into the room, who Blair had not seen yet. "I have another gift for you."

"It cannot be better than a whole new wardrobe, my lord."

Chuck gestured towards the woman behind Blair. Slowly, she turned around, then squealed at the sight. "My Dorota!" she cried out. Blair rushed over to her maid and gave her a warm embrace. "Sweet Dorota, how I have missed you."

"There, there, Lady Blair. No crying now," the maid admonished in her stilted accent. Dorota gave Chuck a brief smile. "You leave now, Lord Hartington. I take care of my lady."

"Blair," Chuck called out softly. She turned around. "I need to leave now. Dorota has been here for about a week, and is familiar with the house."

"What time will you be home?"

It was the first time he had been asked the question, despite having lived with Lilly and his father for the period that his own house was constructed. Chuck was taken aback, and his first intention was to ask if she truly needed to know. "Very soon," he answered. "I wish to see you as soon as possible. Mayhap we can explore your new closet together."

Her eyes brightened at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I would like that, my lord."

Chuck was satisfied at the sight of his beautiful bride surrounded by all the fine things he could buy for her. He dared anyone who doubted whether he could make a bride happy to see her now, with her sparkling eyes and eager hands. He could, and would shower her, with tenfold the treasure she had in Paris. It would be an easy feat entirely, and she would always be happy with him in London.

Tonight, he would give her the Medici necklace and bracelet, which he had bought from the jeweler the day after he had watched her admire them, and she would look divine, perfectly fitting to be called the next duchess. "Wear the red silk dress."

"I have no—" He nodded back towards the bed, and Dorota lifted the cover off a box at the top. "Chuck, it's exquisite."

He took her hand. "Did I not tell you, Blair? You will be happy here." Chuck brushed a kiss on her knuckles. "I will return for you tonight."

~o~o~o~o~o~

"Father," he said, once he set foot in Bartholomew's library. He waited for a moment, but the duke did not look up at him. Instead, the duke raised a hand in a gesture to wait. Chuck gritted his jaw, knowing full well that Jasper had announced his presence to the duke even as Chuck made his way to the study. The action set the atmosphere of the conversation, and Chuck knew at once that Bartholomew was not going to be in a jovial mood.

Chuck walked towards the small bar set up at the end of the room, and poured himself a scotch. When finally, Bartholomew deigned to look at his son, he asked, "One for me." Chuck poured a glass for the duke and walked back to the table to hand him the glass. "You are looking no worse for wear," the duke commented. "From Mr Humphrey's news when he returned, Lilly had feared you were in ill health."

"I healed," Chuck informed his father.

"Then we shall thank our lucky stars you bothered to come home. I hear you have turned Parisian society upside down."

Chuck smirked. "Are we truly going to skirt around the elephant in the room?"

"So you do not wish to exchange pleasantries, Charles?" Bartholomew asked, with an edge sharpening in his voice. "And here I am cautious not to speak so strongly. Your stepmother does not like it when I speak to you as I should."

"Her grace is not here. You are free to speak, father, and so am I."

The duke nodded, and walked around to the front of the table. Chuck recognized the move as one he did to remove the barricade, so the opposing party in a debate, or a deal, would feel that there is a decent flow of opinions but at the same time to impose authority on the other as well. Bartholomew Bass proved to be an overwhelming figure like this. Charles prepared himself for an encounter.

"Then I wish to start with an explanation from you regarding this mess you have created between our family and the Archibalds."

"Acceptable," Chuck decided. "I wanted to ask you about your decision on that as well. Serena, father? Surely there are better families for my sister."

"She would have a better crop to choose from if you had not created such a scandal. Really, Charles, your best friend's fiancé?" Chuck bristled at the patronizing tone the duke used. "Do you really intend on trading a half decade of fast friendship with Nathaniel for a passing fancy?" Bartholomew's voice dropped. "You will not be trapped into a marriage because of a simple mistake, son."

Chuck smiled grimly. "What is it you propose, father?"

"Charles, I am well aware that you are a hot blooded young man." Bartholomew sipped his scotch. "I can accept that the situation overwhelmed you. But you are back in London now, and your options are before you. Lilly and I can manage the scandal, Charles. It will not touch you."

"This is what you and my stepmother propose? I had written to her to make arrangements for my wedding."

"I had hopes that we can change your mind. We can still salvage your relationship with the Archibald family," Bartholomew shared. "And your sister need not go through a hasty wedding to Nathaniel."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "I can guess at your proposal, father, but without you saying the words, I will not believe you would dare."

The duke met Chuck's gaze with a stubborn one of his own. "The proposal is simple, Charles. Let us undo your mistake. We return the Waldorf girl to Nathaniel. Your friend is satisfied that you had done your part, and your stepsister goes free to flitter around parties during her debutante Season."

Chuck grew cold at the prospect, so mechanically and simply worded, that he heard from his father. He placed down his drink heavily on the table. "A favor, your grace?" Bartholomew nodded once, to allow his son to continue. "I would rather you never again refer to my bride as a mistake," Chuck said softly.

"You are a child, Charles," the duke spat out.

"I was no child when you shipped me off to America when I became too much for you to control. Trust me, father, I am no child in this. I am a grown man who can make his own choices."

"You are a child. You know nothing of this girl and her family save from what you know from Nathaniel." The duke paused. "You are a marquis, the next duke. Certain responsibilities come with the same luxuries you enjoy. Charles, you cannot do everything you want without consulting me. That is what being a grown man is at your station."

Chuck's brows furrowed in confusion. His father was red with rage, and the duke never became so involved with Chuck's escapades. Even when Chuck was being sent to America for his scandalous blunders, Bartholomew Bass had handled the situation coolly, systematically. "What is all this, father?" he asked carefully. "I need to know."

Bartholomew sighed, then massaged his temples. "Marriage is not a simple thing to us, Charles."

"I know. But, father, you can find no more perfect match here in England. She has a name of her own, her own income." But all these, Bartholomew already knew. "I have no need to tell you this, and I have no wish to discuss this further. I am taking Lady Blair to your dinner table. Tell me now, your grace. Will you respect my choice, and treat my bride with courtesy, or shall I make arrangements of my own outside your home?"

Bartholomew sighed, then shook his head. "My family is always polite."

Chuck turned to leave. Before he opened the door, he reminded his father, "This was not a mistake, father. I hope you understand that."

tbc


	13. Chapter 13

AN: I have outlined the plot for the events that will occur. Hope you stick around because it looks like several more parts. In other words, this fic is not ending soon.

Part 13

"You are so hard on him, Bart."

The duke looked up towards the sound of her voice, and saw his wife leaning against the closed door. "The boy has believed himself to be a man since he was seven years old and caught his first fish," came the quiet answer.

Lilly made her way to her husband and took the glass from his hand. Gently, she placed it down and drew him towards a chair. "Sit," she commanded, pushing down at his shoulders.

Bartholomew fell heavily into the cushioned seat and leaned his head back. His eyes closed as he felt the gently massaging pressure on his shoulders. "You are good to me," he breathed. "I shall never rue the day that I met you."

"Darling," Lilly said into his ear. "Speak to Charles about your torment. Once you voice it out, perhaps he will understand why you have such strong feelings against his marriage to the Waldorf girl."

He drew a sharp breath. "Lilly, we are never to speak of it again. It was a dark day in my life."

She nodded and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I understand, your grace," she assured him. "And I know what debt you will forever commit yourself to towards the Archibald family, for the Admiral's role on that day. It was well in the past," she reminded him. "But we never imagined that debt to haunt the lives of our children, Bart. It is time to let it go."

The duke removed her hands from his shoulders and stood to walk towards his desk. "I should return to work, Lilly."

"Bart—"

"Will you ensure that everything is prepared for tonight? I promised Charles that we will treat his bride well, and I will keep that promise to my son."

Lilly hesitated. "Saying nothing about that accident serves no good, Bart. It is bound to reveal itself in the future. We need to tell Charles now."

"Three years ago in France, I met you and I wanted you, Lilly. And I returned to London with a new family for Charles. I see absolutely no reason to disillusion the children."

She nodded, the finality of his voice not allowing her to give further arguments. "I'm afraid, Bart."

"It will all sort itself out, darling." The duke returned to his papers.

~o~o~o~o~

She had half run to the salon the moment she heard that her stepbrother waited there for her. Serena arrived breathless as she hurried to meet him. At the sight of Chuck standing there, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank heavens!" she gasped.

Chuck gave her a tight smile. "You look well, sister, considering the delicate situation," was his greeting.

Serena smiled and walked over to Chuck, then wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly. "I know you can save me from this nightmare."

He returned the embrace with as much warmth. "I am truly sorry, Serena. You are in this dire strait for my actions."

She pulled away and looked intently at her brother. "Tell me then, Chuck. I shall rest easier if I know this is not for naught. Is it worth it, my lord?" She took his hand and squeezed. "If you are happy, I will not weep at the thought of spending a lifetime with Nathaniel."

Chuck's eyes briefly closed in gratitude. "You are a good sister." And then, he met her eyes with such conviction that his promise made her heart soar. "But I cannot be content knowing I have torn you from the man you love, Serena."

She sucked in her breath, and her eyes burned. "What do you mean?"

"You cannot think that it would escape me, Serena," he said quietly.

Serena turned away. "My lord, I do not know of what you speak."

Chuck shook his head. "Trust me, sister. I reserve no judgment on your choice. My father cannot choose your future, Serena."

"So said many young ladies, all of whom are now either spinsters or living in poverty off some countryside," Serena scoffed.

He watched her expression intently. "Would it matter to you, if you can be poor with someone you love?"

Serena smiled uncertainly, unused to the very words coming from the marquis' lips. "Have you turned into a romantic, my lord?"

Chuck shook his head with a small laugh. "Perhaps I have only come to understand you, Serena. I have spent many days with Mr Humphrey." His voice lowered. "It is not a choice you should be ashamed of." The blonde smiled gratefully. "And if you do, I will not let you starve, sister. His grace can cut you off, but Humphrey will always find himself under my employ."

She deflated at the words. "If we could ever find him."

"You should never doubt your very own brother. I have men looking for him right now." Serena's hands clasped together in fervent hope. "I somehow cannot imagine our darling Miss van der Woodsen becoming a secretary's wife. However will Daniel Humphrey support you in the way you are accustomed?"

She shook her head. "I have never cared about these frivolous frocks, or the jewelry, or any of these," Serena told him, gesturing to the rich room around them. "In my heart, I was only ever a simple girl."

Chuck shook his head. "You were never a simple girl, Serena."

"I am the daughter of a man who went into business and succeeded. Unlike you, Chuck, I was not born into the Bass family, with all the hoops and dangles and the prestige the name brings. I can live without it all, for him."

"That is how you define love," Chuck realized. In the back of his mind, he remembered his satisfaction at the sight of Blair surrounded by a roomful of everything that he had purchased, everything he had thought would make her happy. And she appeared happy, he remembered. Blair, installed in a room in their home, surrounded by the finer things in life. He would ensure that she was the happiest she had ever been, the most content.

"My lord, we have been siblings since I was fifteen. Have you ever seen me more content than the months when Mr Humphrey joined our household?" There was silence as he thought back to the days when his stepmother had worried about her daughter so, when Serena rebelled against the duchess, as almost shook Society with nights of impropriety that they could barely salvage her reputation. "I was showered with everything this family could afford, but I was never happier than when he came along."

"There was a sadness in your eyes," Chuck remembered. "I remember, for such a young child, you had a sadness in your eyes." For a brief moment, he saw that sadness in Blair's eyes, standing in his grand house, when he pulled away from her embrace. "A favor, sister," he said abruptly.

"Anything, my lord," was the quick, practiced and expected answer.

"Lady Blair will be living here until we are wed." Serena nodded, to tell him that she was aware of the arrangement. "She is a wonderful girl, and I do not wish her to be lonely. Will you see to it that she does not feel alone? Blair has no friends to speak of in this country. She knows only myself and, of course, Daniel."

Her smile reached her eyes. "I will treat her as the sister she is going to be."

"Thank you."

The brief knock on the door announced the butler. Chuck looked up and nodded, allowing the man to speak. "Lord Nathaniel Archibald to see you, my lady."

Serena threw a panicked look at her brother, who only nodded his head. "I was about to see him. Now is as good a time as any." He moved to the back of the room to get himself a drink. For this talk, like the one with his father, Chuck needed to be armed with spirits.

She held her breath when her fiancé walked in, still the handsome figure of a man that sent the ladies of the ton fainting dramatically in gatherings. Nathaniel waved an envelope at Serena, and she grimaced.

"The Danvers' ball," she said, recognizing the invitation.

Nathaniel nodded. "And you are coming with me. Lord and Lady Danvers, after all, were the ones who informed many of our circle of Charles' burgeoning romance with my very own fiancé."

"Nathaniel," Chuck said softly.

Nathaniel turned towards the voice, and his eyes widened when he recognized him. "I heard you were coming back," was his only response.

"No welcome between two friends?" he asked.

Nathaniel turned to Serena. "Will you give me a moment with your stepbrother?"

She shook her head. "If the two of you will only scuffle, there is no possible way that you can send me out of here," she told them.

"Serena," Chuck added with exasperation. "Nathaniel and I are two adults. Leave."

She narrowed her eyes at the two and stalked out of the salon, slamming the door behind her. When she had left, Chuck turned back to Nathaniel. Before he could speak, he saw his friend barreling right out his gut headfirst. With a grunt, he found himself flying across the floor with Nathaniel on top of him. "What the—"

"You son of a—"

And then Nathaniel was leaning over him with his fist drawn back. Chuck fended him off by bucking, and sending Nathaniel sprawling across the floor.

"Traitorous basta—"

Nathaniel pulled himself up then lunged at Chuck, sending the marquis' body slamming against the legs of a delicate chaise.

"Nathaniel, stop being a horse's—"

Chuck threw a punch, then as Nathaniel moved his jaw to recover, he grabbed Nathaniel's collar. Chuck then pushed the other man towards the flower painted walls.

"So says the magnificent nincompoop rasc—"

Nathaniel fell against the wall, and Chuck stumbled onto his hands and knees. The two glared at each other, gasping as they struggled for breath. Stripped of all sophistication, the two merely stared at each other like two men who held a grudge. For long moments they glared, their jaws set and their hands fisted.

"You bastard," Nathaniel swore, being the first to catch his breath. "I trusted you."

Chuck fell silent. And then, "I know."

"Why, Chuck?"

A deep breath. "I have no defense," he admitted.

This made Nathaniel frown. "Then why did you throw a punch?"

"I was in the moment," Chuck answered. "I wasn't going to let you abuse me without a fight."

At that, Nathaniel's stance relaxed, and he chuckled. "You look like hell."

Chuck smirked. Nathaniel's shirt was almost torn, and his usually coiffed hair mussed. There was a trail of blood at the corner of his lips. "And you look like hell raked over hot coals, frozen in Siberia then dunked into a week old horse's water trough," Chuck described. Nathaniel winced. "It appears that you cannot join us for dinner, looking as you do."

"Chuck." Nathaniel sobered. "She is an innocent little girl."

"If you think that, you barely know her. That is all you have ever described her to be."

"And you know her now?" Nathaniel pushed. "One ball in Paris, a retreat to Tuscany, and now you know her more than I, who have been her fiancé for a decade."

"I know not to describe her as an innocent little girl and stop there. She is a beautiful young woman. She plays the piano skillfully, and sings like an angel. She knows how to save a life," Chuck added, and Nathaniel appeared surprised at that. "She adores trinkets from the jewelers and much as she adores worthless scraps of lace and ribbons that she can tie around her head." Chuck smiled. "She reads. A lot. And at the same time, she can be so playful."

This was where Nathaniel jumped. "She cannot play your game. She does not know the rules."

Chuck's gaze fell to the floor. He breathed deeply, searching for the words to assure him, but he found none. Instead, he lifted his eyes to meet his friend's. "What game, Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel stopped, and wondered if that flicker in Chuck's eyes, of something he could not name, was the very thing he should recognize. Vanessa had told him that he could be blind, but this was right in front of his eyes. Nathaniel could see it. He had vision. He just did not know what it was. "Not enough, Chuck."

"Disinvite yourself," Chuck said.

"What?"

"Do not come to dinner," the marquis repeated. "Give me another night of peace, Nathaniel. The truth of you will come out soon enough. I had wanted at least another day before I will need to talk her through your presence in our lives."

"She does not know then," Nathaniel gathered. Chuck shook his head. "You spirited away my fiancé, and she did not know you came to France for me?"

"Stay away for one night, Nathaniel. Do me this favor." Nathaniel did not speak. Chuck squeezed Nathaniel's bruised shoulder. "Can I trust you?" he asked, reminding Nathaniel of the night when he himself had placed his trust on his friend.

Nathaniel smiled grimly. "You did me a favor that night, when I was hurt. I will remember that favor tonight, Chuck."

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Here's another update within only a few hours, because there is so much to tell. Brace yourselves.

Part 14

When he arrived at their townhouse, Chuck was far from pacified. In fact, Nathaniel's promise grated still in his ear. It was a simple favor that he had requested, and his response was so vague that Chuck was still not secure in the knowledge that he would not suddenly appear tonight at the Bass table to shatter the already tenuous situation he had with Blair.

_Just tell her the truth, _his mind whispered. Chuck searched his brain for the best, most suitable way to tell her that the past two months had been lies. And then he opened the door to her bedroom, and the worries melted out of his body. He leaned against the doorframe and watched.

Clad in a dressing down, Blair sat in front of the vanity mirror, with Dorota right behind her brushing even strokes in her hair. A small smile played on his lips. He could watch this every night, one simple ritual. With her long brown hair falling behind her, and her maid counting a hundred strokes, she looked like a medieval princess.

"I can spend every night of my life watching this," he said aloud.

Blair looked up in the mirror and met his smile on the reflection. "My lord, you are home!"

He nodded and walked over to stand beside Dorota. He extended his hand and the maid placed the brush on his palm. With a nod, he dismissed her. Dorota curtsied hastily and left the room. And then, still holding her gaze on the mirror, Chuck continued brushing her hair. His free hand rested on her shoulder, and he watched as she brushed her cheek against the back of his hand. "How was your day, my love?" he asked, needing to know she fared well on the first afternoon that they had to spend apart. After all, now that they were in their real world, there would be endless days when it was possible that they had to be apart. He had businesses to run, travels to do, a life to continue.

"It was interminable without you," she answered, placing the gentlest of kisses against his knuckles. His heart sank at the response, and was glad that he had asked Serena to spend time with her. He should have known it would not be easy to transplant a dainty flower into another soil and just expect her to flourish. "Did you miss me, my lord?" Chuck's breath hitched when she gently bit at the skin of his hand.

With a low growl, he pulled her up and out of the chair, then dragged her body to press against his. She was not Nathaniel's innocent little girl, and he found it laughable that he would think of her only that way. "You need to restrain yourself, my lady," he said huskily.

The intent in her gaze was apparent. She narrowed her eyes and stoop on tiptoes. She took the hairbrush from his hand and dropped it on the floor. Blair's fingers buried themselves in the hair at the back of his head. She pulled him down for kiss at the same time that she pushed her body against his.

"Blair," he breathed against her lips, "what are you doing?"

"Make love to me," she breathed back, in between kisses. "I missed you so."

The words made his head spin. Against his better judgment and completely outside of his plans, he found himself placing his hands on her bottom and pulling her body to him. Dark was falling, and they were expected at the duke's house, but his young bride was eager and his body was even more earnest.

"What shall I do, my lord?" she gasped. "What must I do so that you will make love to me now?"

Chuck breathed deeply, then heaved her up. She opened her legs and hooked them around his hips. The dressing gown fell to the sides, baring herself to him. He carried her the few steps to the bed and they tumbled over onto it. They fell on top of three gowns, and he knew they had been selected for the night. One of the gowns was the red silk he had suggested after all. He could not think to stop then. Her hands frantically pushed at the cravat wrapped around his throat. When she managed to pull the white cloth away, she threw it over his head.

She tore her lips away from his and made her way up his jaw towards the lobe of his ear, then gave a small, playful bite. She spied the cut just below his cheekbone, then pulled away. She ran her thumb over the wound. "You are hurt, my lord."

Chuck pulled her hand away from the evidence of his brawl with Nathaniel. "Tis nothing, my love. It's but a nick from a shave." He looked down at her as she lay beneath him. His hand reached out to push the bedrobe off her shoulder, slowly and gingerly as if he were revealing something precious. He bared a breast and kissed the tip. Blair moaned and closed her eyes. "You are getting fuller, my love," he said against the skin of one globe. Every day, there were little things such as this that he would discover about her, the same way he had earlier learned that her maid would brush her hair at night. In a few months he would trace a pattern then of the days her body would swell beautifully, and when it would wane—like a moon.

She fingers in his hair tightened. "Am I getting fat?" she gasped.

He freed himself, then settled his body between her legs. "You are becoming more beautiful," he responded. Chuck placed a kiss on her chin, then positioned himself. With one smooth move, he pushed inside her. Her lips fell open and she sighed.

Afterwards, as they lay together in her bed, with her wrapped around him and her head resting upon his chest, he heard her whisper, "I love you." Blair held her breath, because every time he said them back had been the best moments of their time together. Chuck sighed in contentment and placed a kiss on her temple. She blinked away the tears that suddenly rose in her eyes.

"I do not wish to move, my love," he said then, after a quarter of one hour had passed. "But we need to make our way to dinner."

She pulled away from him and sat up. Blair closed her undone robe and stood up, her head hung low.

"Blair—" he said. She looked up at him quickly, waiting. He must have realized what he had forgotten to say, and she eagerly listened for the words. "Can you still use the silk?"

With downcast eyes, she inspected what had been an utterly lovely blood red silk gown. "No, my lord. We have completely ruined it," she said softly. And it was the perfect excuse. Blair allowed her tears to fall, because now they had a reason to. "I wanted it to be a perfect night. And it is utterly destroyed," she sniffled.

Warm arms surrounded her. She sniffled against his skin. "No, no, no, Blair. You have dozens of beautiful gowns."

She shook her head, her beautiful hair moving as she did. "This was not how I pictured it," she insisted, knowing full well she was venting her frustration on his pitiful response to her declaration of love through a situation that was woefully shallow. "You ruined it, Chuck."

The way he accepted the reason for her spontaneous crying was enough to crush her. Yet very sweetly, he placed kiss in her hair. "I have something to make you feel better. I was going to give it to you before dinner."

She followed him with her eyes as he pulled open one of the closet drawers and took out a familiar box. Blair's eyes widened as he lifted the lid to reveal the Medici diamond necklace and bracelet resting on their velvet bed. "Chuck," she gasped, "I did not think you purchased it."

"I saw the look on your face when you tried them on and thought if I could make you that happy again, then no expense is too steep." He lifted the necklace and placed the cool stones on her throat, then wrapped the bracelet around her wrist. "Do you feel better now, my love?"

He meant no harm, she knew. Her heart sank at the reality of where they were, so soon upon their return. When once, when she was all he had, they spent each moment together and he could freely return or initiate a declaration of love, the world had taken an extreme yet completely expected turn. This was London, the monster he had told her not to fear. London was his world, larger and fuller than their little villa atop a Tuscan hill. In London he could leave her for a day to be with his family, or friends, or even to work. In London, Chuck was Lord Hartington and he had businesses and a reputation, and he could not be seen on the street receiving a kiss on the cheek.

Her hand flew to the diamond on the hollow of her throat. This was how Lord Hartington mended her imperfect night.

In response to his question, she gave him a smile. "They are beautiful."

And he seemed satisfied with the answer. "Come," he invited, with his hand stretched out towards her. "We shall search your closet for another dress to wear. We are late for dinner."

She placed her hand in his and walked with him. He opened the closet and looked through the rows of clothing that the maids had hung. Blair remembered a lovely emerald green empire dress that she had admired that morning. She spotted it on the opposite end of the closet, and let go of Chuck's hand. She looked up quickly to reach for it. The quick movement made her vision spin. She had the same dizzy spell that she had told him about that morning in the carriage, only this time, standing up, it sent her reeling. She clutched at the handle of the closet door and hung on.

"Blair?" Then he was right beside her, right at the moment that her knees buckled. He held her up by her arms. "Sweetheart, what is it?" he said softly.

She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest. She did not open her eyes until she felt the world stop spinning from under her feet. Blair finally opened her eyes and saw his concerned face. She patted his cheek reassuringly. "Another dizzy spell," she told him.

"We should stay home," he offered tentatively.

She started to shake her head, but stopped immediately when she started to get nauseated. Blair took a deep breath. "No. I know we need to go." She pointed to the green gown she had set her sights on. "Will you reach for this, my lord?"

~o~o~o~o~o~

Jasper, the Bass butler, opened the door and admitted the marquis and his lady. Nathaniel stopped at the top step where he had been waiting. He fixed his cravat, then pulled his jacket more snugly around his form. He had led Chuck to believe that he would avoid dinner tonight, as requested. Yet as he sat in the pub, waiting for Vanessa to complete her workday to discuss his problem, he realized that this would be his only chance.

She was lovelier than he imagined, he thought once he saw Chuck lead Lady Blair into the foyer. She had the same long brown hair that he remembered from the last time he saw her when she was fifteen years old. And Chuck was correct when long ago, even before he had met Lady Blair, he told Nathaniel that so much could change in three years. His best friend's palm rested on the small of her back, and he helped her take off her coat.

Nathaniel took the first step down to intercept them as he planned, so that even before the evening could begin, she would know that Nathaniel was still there, that he did not abandon her, that he would have kept his ten year promise to her. His attention, however, was caught by the quiet movements that were uncharacteristic of his friend. Nathaniel watched as Chuck gave the coats to the butler, then turn to Blair and cup her cheek. He seemed to ask her something, but Nathaniel was too far away to hear. She nodded her head, and Chuck pulled her close to place a kiss on her forehead.

They walked towards the dining room. Chuck fell a step behind her. When he was right at the bottom of the stairs, Chuck looked up and met Nathaniel's gaze. Nathaniel drew in a breath, unaware that Chuck had known he was watching. He nodded at his friend, his silent way of assuring Chuck that he would not be attending the dinner. In return, Chuck gave a nod of his own.

"Thank you," he mouthed.

Nathaniel waited for Blair and Chuck to enter the dining room. He then made his way down the steps and went out the door. The pub was likely still open. He hoped that Vanessa served good dinner there as well. He had a hankering for meat, and it seemed like he was getting none of the sumptuous Bass meal tonight.

~o~o~o~o~o~

The moment they stepped into the dining room, the three other occupants turned. Chuck's hand was warm on her back, and she was grateful for the support he provided. He could easily take charge over the introductions, but Blair drew herself together. She told herself to be brave. In front of these people, Chuck's family, the duke, the duchess and his stepsister, she needed to become Lady Blair Waldorf. She had never been a simpering flower in Paris. She was not going to be one here.

Chuck had already shown her today that he would not always be right beside her.

"You will be fine, my love. They will adore you as much as I do," he had assured her.

She had seen her share of debutantes withering under the scrutiny of a lord's family to believe his words at face value. If she wanted to survive in London, she had to do it apply the training she had been given all her life. The last thing Eleanor Waldorf's daughter would be told was that she lacked breeding. Harold had already taken care of the money anyway.

It was time to show them that she had the social grace for this family.

"Lady Blair," greeted Lilly warmly. The duchess walked towards the younger woman and took Blair's hands in hers, then kissed her on the cheeks.

"Your grace," Blair greeted with a smile. She stepped away from Chuck, and his hand fell away from her back. "You are as lovely as Lord Hartington mentioned."

Chuck glanced at her in surprise. He had never seen her so interact with other people on the level she was doing now. Even in her own mother's masquerade ball, she had been the lonely girl in the music room. She smiled at him, and he realized he was watching a completely different Blair, the Blair Waldorf he had never met—it was debutante Blair. He cleared his throat. "Lord Hartington?" he repeated. Blair had never referred to him by that title. It sat uneasily in his stomach to hear her refer to him by that name. Debutante Blair, with her cheery attitude and her easy conversation, he was uncertain yet.

"Your grace, Lord Devonshire," she said, walking towards Bartholomew Bass. Chuck held his breath, nervous of his father's attitude after his explosive reaction to his plan to marry Blair. "I am so happy to meet you."

Bartholomew stood. "Harold's daughter," he said huskily.

Blair nodded. "You knew my father, your grace?"

The duke nodded, much to Chuck's surprise. Lilly walked over to stand beside her husband, and placed a hand on his arm. "There was a time that I did," Bartholomew informed her. "He was a brilliant man."

"He was," she agreed, and for the first time, turned to look for Chuck. He walked over to stand beside her. "I miss him every day since he was taken from us."

Bartholomew looked down at the young woman in front of him, then at his son. Chuck's eyes drifted to where his father's hands fisted at his sides. The duke cleared his throat, and Lilly placed a hand on her husband's back. Chuck set his jaw, wondering if this was his father controlling anger. He pulled Blair with him, vowing to speak to his father afterwards.

"I would like you to meet a special young woman that I hope will become a very close friend," he told her. Chuck gestured towards Serena. "Lady Blair, meet my dearest sister, Miss Serena van der Woodsen."

Blair extended a hand, but Serena shook her head and embraced her. "Please. I insist you call me Serena, and that I call you Blair. We will be sisters," she told her.

"It would be a pleasure," Blair answered with a smile.

Serena and Blair settled into an easy conversation, one that flew by over his head as Serena asked about the latest fashion trends in Paris. Chuck turned to glance at where Lilly and his father conversed. He looked back at Serena and Blair, and they were laughing as if they were the oldest of friends. He walked towards the duke.

"You promised you would be gracious to my bride, father."

Lilly turned pleading eyes to her stepson. "Not now, Charles. Your father is distraught."

"I cannot bear to look at her," Bartholomew murmured to his wife.

Chuck looked at Bartholomew in surprise. "Do you dislike her so, father? She has been ill since morning, but is here out of respect to you. Will you not try?"

"Charles, you do not understand."

Chuck snarled, then gripped his father's arm. "Make me understand, father. What is so wrong with Blair?"

"If I tell you, then you are part of it. If you are so determined to keep your bride, son, you would not press this."

"Tell me," Chuck challenged.

There was a burst of soft laughter, and Bartholomew looked and saw Serena and Blair in one corner of the dining room. "Let's eat and get this over with."

Chuck tightened his grip on his father's arm. "Tell me," he repeated.

Bartholomew leaned and whispered into his ear. "I killed Harold Waldorf."

Chuck's gaze flew to Lilly, who shook her head sadly. The duchess kissed her stepson's cheek, then whispered. "Lady Blair brings back memories we would rather forget, Charles."

"You are involved in this?" he whispered back.

Lilly pulled away, then nodded towards the dinner table. She turned to the doorway, where one servant stood vigilant. "We will begin the meal," she pronounced. "Serena, Lady Blair, let us be seated."

Chuck turned to look at his bride, who smiled back at him. He pulled a chair out for her and helped her in. He then settled into a seat beside her. He felt her hand on his wrist, so he turned to her. "What is it, Blair?"

"Is everything well, my lord? You appear disturbed." Chuck breathed in, then learned towards her. He lifted his hand and kissed her knuckles. She grew more concerned. "Whatever it is, my lord, I am certain it will work itself to your satisfaction."

He nodded, then looked up as the servers brought in the trays of food. Before they lifted the covers, he turned to Blair and abruptly offered, "Come home with me."

She beamed at his words. "But I thought—"

"No," he interrupted. "I cannot leave you in this house. Come home with me, Blair. I will figure out how we can do this with the least scandal as possible. But I will not ask you to live here in this house."

She nodded. "I would love to stay in your home, my lord," she answered.

The covers were taken off the scrumptious feast of roasts and fish. The scent wafted from the plates. She swallowed heavily as she held back the bile that rose in her throat. Blair pushed at the table to get out of her chair, but the wood was so heavy she managed only to move a foot. She clutched at the arms of her chair, then heaved on the floor.

Serena gasped and stood. Chuck rose and moved to kneel by Blair's seat. He then threw a look of apology to the duchess. "If you will forgive us, your grace. I wish to take Lady Blair home to Piccadilly." He turned to the server and commanded, "Have my carriage brought around."

"Oh but I had thought she would be staying here," Serena protested.

"My lady is ill, and I would like to care for her myself," he said, grateful at least for the reason Blair's illness provided. And then, he resolved his problem of a chaperone. "But I would be honored if you will stay with us, Serena. We can invite your grandmother Cece to stay with us. I understand she wants to take an active role in your launch. She can take Lady Blair under her wing as well."

"My lord," the butler called. "Your carriage awaits."

He helped Blair out of her chair, holding her steady as they made their way out the door. She stumbled halfway through, and he murmured, "I knew we should not have come." He lifted her up into his arms, concerned at the illness that only seemed to get worse each time.

"This was a disaster," she whispered against the crook of his neck.

"Nonsense."

"I vomited on the duke's dining room floor," she lamented.

Chuck carried her back to the carriage and settled in with her. He drew her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. First, Nathaniel, and now this with his father. The secrets were piling up and suffocating him. God help him. He was not going to lose her over any of it.

tbc


	15. Chapter 15

Part 15

It had been a feat to obtain the Chuck's agreement to Serena and Blair's plan to tour the Bazaar. It had only been the night before that Blair had spilled her stomach contents onto the duke's lavish flooring, and Chuck had stayed up through the night as she slept fitfully and rose to throw up twice over the period of nine hours. Dorota had insisted on staying with her lady. When Chuck had requested for a doctor, the maid had informed him that she could take over the care. She had seen Blair through various illnesses since she was a child, and said it with such authority that the marquis had to choice but to fold.

If she remained sick by morning, he could call as many doctors as he wanted. This, at least, Dorota permitted.

When the sun rose to shine, Blair was up and about, as if the illness was a passing malady that had completely vanished. Serena van der Woodsen arrived at sunrise with her grandmother, and promptly informed her stepbrother that she and his bride would be going on an outing to the Pantheon Bazaar. Much to Chuck's dismay, Serena's grandmother and their new chaperone decided that an outing would be good for the two, and Cece would spend the day with the maids arranging Serena's new bedroom.

And so the two young women now strolled along the bazaar, with parasols in hands, looking through trinkets they would not bring home. As they passed by an apparel shop, Blair caught Serena's arm to stop her.

"What is it?" Serena inquired of her newfound friend.

Blair pulled her along to a ribbon shop. "I used to have many ribbons of all colors. And I would tie them around my head like so." Blair took a length of ribbon and placed it neatly on, with the color peeking from underneath some curls.

"Well what happened to them?"

"I left them in Paris," Blair shared. "Your brother and I did not have much time to pack."

Serena had been curious about the story since Daniel told her about Chuck's decision to escape to Italy. Having found a good time to ask, Serena smiled. "I have not been told of the story yet. How did you and Chuck fall in love and become engaged?"

Blair gave a lopsided smile. "Your brother came to Paris looking for a bride. Love had nothing to do with it. My father's pocketbook is likely to thank for this all."

"What?" Serena laughed. "B, it is so apparent that he is head over heels for you."

"It was not until Italy that he grew so fond of me."

The blonde's smile vanished. It was that when she realized that Blair had no inkling of the real story. She ached to tell her, because it would give the other young woman more appreciation of how much her brother valued her, because it was no light matter to betray a friend. Serena shook her head, and thought it best the admission come from Chuck himself. "Perhaps we can get a white one?" she suggested lightly. "It would contrast well with your dark hair."

Blair's eyes sparkled at the memory. "I have a white one here in England, and I do not wish to replace it. I gave it to your brother the very first night we met." And then, much to Serena's delight, she narrated the eventful encounter outside La Fleur Noire.

"It's fate!" she exclaimed with a giggle.

Blair purchased a half dozen colors of ribbons for her new wardrobe and held them up. "Are they not beautiful? I will have Dorota embroider my initials on them tonight."

Serena touched the fabric and admired the smooth texture. And then her vision shifted to the bookstore on the opposite side of the street. She gasped, then turned to Blair. Before she could speak, Blair took her hand.

"Serena, come. I see Mr Humphrey in that store. Let us go say hello. I have not since him since we arrived."

They went into the store where Daniel was inspecting a hardbound book. Serena picked up her pace, leaving Blair at her wake. She pushed the door open and sent the bell jingling to announce the new customer. At the noise, Daniel looked up and saw her. He stopped still, as if searching for words to say. Instead, he put down the book and picked up another one and held it up to her. "Look. Harris' List of Covent Garden Ladies," he said humorously. Serena's eyebrow arched at the sight of her lover displaying the infamous book of mistresses and prostitutes in London. "You brother has probably gone through this entire list by the time he turned eighteen."

Behind Serena, Blair gasped. Daniel's gaze shifted to Blair. He flushed. "My lady, it was a jest," he stammered.

"Mr Humphrey, it was not a clever one!" she admonished.

Serena turned around and took Blair's hand. "B, a favor if you will."

"What is it?"

"I need to leave you for a moment to speak with Mr Humphrey." Blair narrowed her eyes. "I have long waited to see him again," Serena confessed. "There is a milliner next door. Shall I meet with you there in a half hour?"

Blair searched Serena's eyes, then turned to look at Daniel. She saw how Daniel was watching Serena and slowly nodded. "Of course."

Blair left the bookstore and walked towards the millinery next door, as suggested by Serena. She looked through the display hats one by one. Within moments she found herself leaving the shop. Chuck's welcome home to London gift of a wardrobe covered most everything she needed, and so she knew she had all the styles in her closet. Instead of going to the shoe shop next door, Blair found herself gravitating towards the flower stand.

The shop keeper was jolly. Upon seeing the lady, the man greeted her with such vivre that Blair could not help but smile.

"A bouquet, my good man."

She knew that voice. A man behind her took the bouquet from the shop keeper and handed a coin. And then she found the bouquet thrust towards her. Blair turned her head and looked up, then found herself staring into the face of the one man she knew was here, but thought she would never see.

"Nathaniel?" she whispered.

He was as handsome as the day they were engaged. Nathaniel gave her a brilliant smile and handed the flowers to her. She took the flowers wordlessly. "I figure I owe you at least a bouquet, my lady comtesse."

"Wha—How? Lord Nathaniel, what—"

"You and I have much to discuss, Lady Blair," he told her.

Slowly, she nodded. "Perhaps you can begin with why you had abandoned me to my own devices when I pleaded with you to save me."

"Perhaps I can begin by assuring you that I did not." He offered his arm for her to take. "Invite you to talk with me and guarantee you that anything I tell you now, Lord Charles will testify to its truth."

Blair looked down at the proffered arm, and she remembered all the nights she dreamed that Nathaniel would come and offer to take her in that exact way. But Nathaniel never came, and in his place was Chuck. And Chuck had done nothing but take good, loving care of her. "No," she said. "Lord Charles will be anxious if I leave with you."

"Lady Blair, Lord Charles knows me." Nathaniel slipped his hand into his pocket and drew out the Vanderbilt ring, the engagement diamond she had worn for three years. "How else could he give me this?"

Her heart sank at the sight. "I must have hurt you terribly, my lord. But you must understand my place. I could not wait around for you to decide if you wished to rescue me."

Nathaniel reached for her hand and placed it on his arm. "Walk with me, Lady Blair. There is something I wish for you to understand. I have not, for a single moment, abandoned you."

~o~o~o~o~o~

He could not account for the exact temper he was in. It was a perfect mix of fury and panic. It began the moment the open carriage rolled to their street. He had been waiting at the balcony for their arrival. Even with the surprising recovery Blair had made by morning, he was still more concerned about how she would be feeling by the time their excursion was over. And so he had waited until the time they had agreed to come home.

But noon went by and neither Serena nor Blair, nor the carriage came. By an hour past the schedule, the open carriage turned the corner, bearing Serena's blonde head and tense form and Daniel's surprising presence. He knew it was worry exploding within him because he could barely hear the clatter of the hooves on the cobbled streets. Instead, all he could hear was his thunderous heartbeat.

He ran all the way down the stairs and flung the door open before the butler could. And so he was in the front seat to a show of his stepsister wringing her hands with worry, and Daniel Humphrey patting her back.

"Serena!" he called out sharply.

Serena's guilty and surprised look said it all. "My lord."

"Where is Lady Blair?" Chuck asked quietly as the two made their way into the house.

Serena drew a deep breath. "I was hoping she would be here."

"How can she be here when you were the one who insisted on taking her out shopping?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned to glare at the butler. "Have them take my horse out front." The butler nodded and walked away with all dignity. Chuck turned back to Serena, then Daniel. "You know about any of this, Humphrey?"

Daniel nodded, his arms crossed behind him as he did so. He placed a hand on the small of Serena's back. "We had encountered each other by chance at the bazaar, my lord. My deepest regrets. We lost track of Lady Blair."

Chuck snarled. "Lady Blair would not traipse about in unknown territory and away from you."

"I asked her to leave, Chuck!" Serena cried. And then her voice fell to a whisper. "I wished to speak with Daniel in private."

"And so you sent my bride, who has only been in London for two days, away to wander by herself through Tyburn and Marlborough?" Chuck demanded.

Serena cringed, and at that Daniel stepped forward. "My lord, your sister suffers enough."

"And so she should," Chuck said in a clipped voice. He saw his horse brought around, and slammed the door closed behind him as he exited the house.

It was as if fire was burning under the horse's hooves as he rode hard and fast to the Pantheon. Chuck checked through each shop to ask about Blair. The lace shop owner remembered Blair for buying ribbons, and so he knew he was right where Blair and Serena had walked. The man at the flower stand hailed him upon hearing the description he provided.

"Your lady left with a fine-looking gentleman, she did," the florist informed him. "Lord Nathaniel Archibald. He gave me a pretty guinea for one little bouquet. Of course I remember."

At that, Chuck strode back to his horse, cursing under his breath. Nathaniel's chance encounter with Lady Blair. What a great, fantastic, stupendous coincidence.

He believed in coincidences the same way he believed he could step aside if she so chooses to honor her engagement to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel was not in the Archibald townhouse. That much he was told by the butler, and when the old man asked if he wished to speak with Lady Anne or the admiral, Chuck stepped away from the door. He made his way back to his home, wishing for all the world that Nathaniel had done the honorable thing, and not told her anything.

Of their fast and tight friendship, Chuck was cognizant of only one thing. They competed. Even when there was no contest, they competed just because it made their lives interesting. If Nathaniel saw it fit to think of Blair as competition, Chuck was not going to surrender. Nathaniel thought this was a game, and no matter Chuck's insistence that it was not, this ploy just served to tell Chuck that Nathaniel was still moving around the chess pieces.

"Is Lady Blair home?" he asked the butler as he stepped in, exhausted and dusty from the ride.

"A full two hours ago, my lord," answered the old man. "Lord Nathaniel took her home."

As expected, Chuck thought. He dragged his feet up the steps and stopped at the top step, upon the sight of Dorota standing outside Blair's door, glaring at him. "She not come out," Dorota said accusingly. "She not open to me, she not open to you."

Chuck gritted his teeth and tried the door. It was, as Dorota eloquently stated, not open. "Get the keys," he told the maid.

The maid nodded and left.

Chuck knocked. "Blair, my love, open the door." One of the doors from the family wing opened, and Chuck saw Cece peek outside at him. He turned his back on her. "Useless chaperone," he muttered. She served her purpose. With her presence in the house, it was acceptable to have both Blair and Serena in his home. But that was where it ended. If it had been any other situation he would be delighted that Cece seemed to be inept at being a chaperone. For today, he still firmly believed that Cece should have supported his case on not allowing the two to leave for the bazaar. He rapped on the door again. "Blair, I need to talk to you. Let me in."

There was no response from the other side, and the silence made him even more nervous. Chuck turned and saw Dorota walking towards him with the key. He inserted the key into the knob and turned. The door swung open.

His heart ached at the sight. Blair sat in front of the mirror, brushing her hair, tears trailing down her cheeks. He said, "Dorota, leave us."

When they were alone, he walked forward and knelt next to her. She continued brushing her hair. Chuck reached up and took the brush from her. "Your hands are so cold," he told her softly. She sniffled. He rubbed his hands over them.

"I discovered something today," she said raggedly.

"I know."

"You do not love me," Blair continued, as if he did not speak.

Of all the things she could have said, this was unexpected and took him aback. "I don't?" he repeated, dumbstruck.

"You do not trust me."

He shook his head. He pulled her cold hands to warm against his chest. "I trust no one else more. I love no one else," he told her.

"Then why did you not tell me?" she whispered brokenly through her tears.

And he took a breath deep enough to quell his fear of confessing such a private emotion. "I was afraid that if I did, I would lose you."

She shook her head, disregarding the reason that he gave. "I understand that you could fear that from the start. But after Tuscany, Chuck?" she breathed out. "After Santa Maria? I gave everything to you and still you could not trust me."

He kissed her palms. Chuck searched his brain for any words that could make her understand his fear. He could find none, and he realized he did not know why he could not tell her after Santa Maria del Fiore. She was right. It could have mattered in Paris. It certainly would not have changed a thing after their small, solemn version of a wedding. He had been scared of the secret so much that he thought he could keep it even when it was impossible—in London.

His hand slipped into his pocket and drew out the one keepsake he had of a genuinely perfect Parisian moment. Chuck looked down at the folded satin ribbon and raised it to his nose and took a breath.

"Bring the carriage around," he informed the butler. "And fetch me a bottle of scotch. I am going for ride." Inside the carriage, he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank as if it were water.

That was the first thing he would regret of that night. His head regretted that consumption miserably, after all. He opened his eyes and felt as if the sun was scorching them off their sockets. His head throbbed at every single noise.

"Aaaaargh," he groaned.

The dainty footsteps coming towards the bed murdered him with each clatter of a heel. At least he was in a comfortable bed. The smell of breakfast assailed his nostrils and made bile rise in his throat. Chuck opened his eyes finally and sat up.

"Easy, my lord. You know what quick movements can do after you consume too much of your favorite poison," came the lilting, teasing voice.

His eyes adjusted to the light. His vision focused on the feminine form at the doorway that walked towards him with a tray of food. "Alicia," he realized.

tbc


	16. Chapter 16

AN: Wholeheartedly I am dedicating this story to those of you who are always ready and eager to read a Chair historical romance. It was a farfetched idea at the start, but your kind and encouraging words were fantastic motivation.

Part 16

"Look—" he hesitated.

The blonde gave him a sweet smile. "It is perfectly fine, my lord. This, nursing you back to health like this, is part of my role. Men have come to us when they are distressed, or feel that they cannot talk to their wives." She smiled. "Or I assumed this was about your young bride, given the rather feminine accessory you had been clutching the entire night."

"The entire night?" he repeated tightly.

Alicia nodded. "You were drunk and rolling on my settee. I barely managed to get you into bed."

Chuck sighed in relief. He stumbled out of the bed and waved the food away. Chuck found himself still in his britches and his rumpled shirt. He strode towards the dainty vanity and combed his fingers through his hair. Alicia placed the tray down and walked over to him. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing myself. I look like hell."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I can help you, Charles."

He flinched at her touch. At her look of concern, he sighed, then settled onto the stool. "We need to speak, Alicia."

To his surprise, she gave a sad smile and nodded. "I had hoped it would not come to this."

"What do you mean?"

"When I heard about your taking a bride, I had fervently hoped that nothing would change," she shared. "And almost always, when my patron takes a wife, nothing does." Alicia touched her fingers to his cheek. "But I know my lord Charles, and I knew this would happen, especially with the gossip that has reached me. You truly betrayed Nathaniel for her?"

Chuck set his jaw. "Nathaniel figured nowhere in the equation when I chose to spend my life with my lady."

"Ah," Alicia laughed. "He was merely an obstacle you overcame?"

"Alicia," he started hoarsely. "I know I have thrown your plans. I should have given you time to find another patron. I can help you—"

She shook her head. "I have had offers, Charles. Do not doubt that I will be able to carry forward without you."

"Offers?"

"Spectacular ones," she assured him. "But I did not wish to leave you." Alicia bent to place a kiss on his slack lips. "Now I must set you free."

"You have been a perfect mistress, Alicia," he said in goodbye.

She nodded. "I know. If you had not met her, if you had married any of women who have been parading in front of you all this while, you would have kept me," Alicia said with the confidence that only a woman of her career could muster. "I am happier that this is the reason we part, Charles. I can only imagine the lady she is to have stolen you from me."

"That she is," he admitted.

Charles left her standing alone in her luxurious apartment. She sighed and made her way to the bed to fix the blankets he had disturbed. The white satin ribbon lay forgotten on the pillow. Alicia reached up for it and held it up. At the end of the cloth, embroidered in the exact same thread as the rest of the ribbon, which served to make the letter seem embossed rather than stitched, was a B. She placed the ribbon in her small clutch to return on another day.

It was their third day in London, marked especially as he counted the days to their impending wedding. Chuck made his way into his home with guilt and dread heavy in his heart. Merely a few days before he took Lady Blair to wife, and here he walked in shame come morning after a night in his mistress' house. Forever cautious and now, with a bride, even more so, Chuck made his way out of Alicia's place and straight to his carriage. He was grateful that the morning was too early for many of the ton to be about.

When he arrived at his townhouse, he was surprised to see Nathaniel in his drawing room. Angered at the presence, Chuck pushed the door open and stalked towards him. He grasped the cravat tucked into his shirt and lifted Nathaniel. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"He merely told the truth, Lord Hartington," came the feminine voice.

He whirled around and the sight took his breath away. Surrounded by her seamstresses and a very pleased Dorota, Lady Blair stood on a platform at the center of the room. His gaze climbed and his lips parted at the image she presented. She looked at him through a long white beaded veil and he realized at once that he was looking at his bride fitting her wedding dress. The dress was stunning and simple, a white net silk and satin concoction with brussel lace trimming at the décolletage. The hem was edged with silver thread, and the same thread ran an embroidered through the entire skirt. The sleeves were puffed and short, and bared her arms until elbow cut long silk gloves hid them.

"Blair," he breathed.

She turned her back to him and quietly requested the seamstress to measure faster. He felt a pang at the snub, but at the same time wide relief that despite the fact that she was unwilling to converse civilly, and even called him Lord Hartington—which now he realized she only used to put him in his place—she was yet unswayed from their decision to wed.

"I assure you, Chuck, that I said nothing to Lady Blair but the truth," Nathaniel told him. "I told her what you could not tell her, and I believe you are better off for it."

Chuck pulled Nathaniel away from the drawing room. "What did you say?"

"I know you care for her. I have seen it." Nathaniel shook his head. "But you will ruin it all by the way you have been hiding me. Did you think you could hide it forever?" he demanded. "I am your sister's fiancé and your best friend."

Chuck hung his head, then looked at his friend. "You have obviously never been afraid of the decision of a woman." And then he laughed softly, because before Blair, he had never been afraid either.

"Of course I have," Nathaniel admitted. "The day I found out about the collapse of my family estate, I was so afraid. I knew what Lady Rose would do. And Lady Blair's letters throughout the years have convinced me that she needed to be saved."

The marquis lifted his head and met Nathaniel's eyes. For the first time since he returned, Chuck extended his hand to Nathaniel. "You would not know it for my stubborn arrogance, but I am sorry, Nathaniel. What I have done is selfish. I did betray your trust," he confessed. "I wished I can be sorrier, but I cannot. I cannot regret the events that transpired to bring us to this pass."

Slowly, Nathaniel nodded. "That brought Lady Blair to your home instead of mine?" Chuck broke into a small smile. "That the wedding at Hanover in three days is yours and not mine?"

"I cannot regret that, Nathaniel, though I hold you close to my heart."

Nathaniel smiled, then took Chuck's hand and pulled him for a quick and rough embrace. "Twas fate, I should say. I have spoken to her for this second day and all throughout I see her brighter, more alive, than I remember her ever to be."

The marquis glanced towards the drawing room where Blair was assisted down from the platform. Dorota followed behind her lady with her daydress in tow. "Even with her anger towards me, you find her happier?" he inquired, a small smile touching his lips.

Nathaniel patted his friend on the shoulder. "She has asked me to take her and Serena out on a walk at the park." Chuck growled, then turned a furious gaze at Nathaniel. "It would do much to quell rumors, Bass," he pointed out.

"The last time she went for an outing with my dear stepsister, she turned out missing, briefly abducted by her former fiancé and still angry towards me," Chuck added.

Serena came running down the steps with a smile on her face. Although still angry with her, Chuck's gaze flitted to the steps towards Serena's room. He knew just what gave that skip on her step. He was going to have a talk with Daniel Humphrey and Serena this afternoon, and set down strict rules against turning his new home into a den of fornication. Serena's smile vanished when she saw her stepbrother. "My lord," she greeted quietly.

Chuck nodded curtly, unwilling to show her how quickly she was forgiven lest she do something thoughtless again in the name of love. Certainly he was not one to judge, as he did something thoughtless and hurt Nathaniel in the process. However, it was unacceptable that Serena had endangered Blair.

Blair appeared in a rose-colored day dress and nodded at Chuck. Coldly, but out of courtesy to her lord, she asked, "It is a beautiful day for a walk, Lord Hartington. Will you be so kind as to allow your sister and me to venture out with our escort?"

"Well," Chuck drawled, then offered his arm, "I will do better than allow you. Serena can walk with her fiancé, and you can walk with yours, my lady."

Blair narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. She turned to look at Serena, as if prompting her to do or say anything that could change Chuck's mind. Serena shook her head, because she was still in her brother's bad side. Blair almost rolled her eyes, but prevented it as it was such an unseemly and juvenile action. Instead, she gave Chuck a bright smile and placed her hand on his sleeve. And then she squeezed. Chuck frowned at her. She smiled. "Did I clutch you too tightly, Lord Hartington?" she asked sweetly.

"No, Lady Blair. Your touch is heaven," was his swift answer. He learned she did not appreciate his light teasing by the way she squeezed even tighter, with her fingernails digging deep into his skin. He yelped, then decided to hold her hand with his other one while it rested on his arm.

He led her towards the door, with Serena and Nathaniel following closely behind. By the odd noise they made, he suspected they were muffling laughter.

"You looked beautiful in your wedding gown," he whispered into her ear as they crossed the street and made their way to the park.

She shivered at the proximity and glared up at him for doing so while they were in public and in the middle of what she assumed to be a spat. However, when she saw him looking down at her fondly, as if recollecting the image of her in her dream dress and intricate lace veil, her defenses melted. She heard Nathaniel laugh at a comment that Serena made, and she remembered his deception. Blair turned to face ahead.

Nathaniel and Serena fell into step beside them. Serena asked her new friend about the fashion plate that Blair chose for her wedding gown. Once Blair informed Serena that there was no fashion plate, and that she had detailed the specifics of the style herself, Serena removed her hand from Nathaniel's arm and clasped Blair's free one. Blair looked up at Chuck with an eyebrow arched. At that, Chuck released his hold on her other hand.

The two ladies walked together speaking about the choices that Blair had made to come up with her dream dress. Nathaniel watched with a smile, and Chuck's lips curved into a smirk. "I should give my sister an hour more. Maybe by then she could melt my comtesse's frosty heart," Chuck suggested.

"I have no doubt Serena can turn Lady Blair's attention enough that she will forget why she was angry." And then he shook his head. "I have never seen Lady Blair angry. She is a spitfire. Did she hurt you?" Chuck laughed, then rubbed his arm at the memory. "Are you enjoying this?" Nathaniel exclaimed in disbelief.

Chuck nodded. "I had suspected there was something like this in her." He watched Serena and Blair as they walked and chatter away. "The first night I saw her she was dancing in La Fleur to learn about the real world," he narrated. "And out of the blue, she kissed me." He touched his lips. "I miss that Blair. She vanished too quickly with the problems we had with her mother and her stepbrother."

"You are delighted that she is disrespecting you," Nathaniel realized.

"Better she is angry than holed up in her room crying," Chuck said softly. "She learned that I had deceived her, and did not come to Paris to marry her. She learned that I had betrayed you. In all, I think she took it rather well."

"Because you betrayed me," Nathaniel pointed out. "Betray her and suffer the consequences. It would be more dire than a little pain on your arm, I gather."

Chuck grinned. "Are you afraid of Lady Blair, your once innocent little girl?"

"I fear having been so close to you, you have spoilt her and gave her claws."

He glanced at the nonexistent marks on his arm. "Sharp little claws at that. Beware."

He and Nathaniel continued their conversation until they saw a black polished phaeton stop at the park. A redhead stepped off and met a familiar slender blonde.

"I adore her hat," Blair said.

Serena pulled her friend along with her. "Well then let us ask where she bought it."

Chuck turned to Nathaniel and cursed. "Katerina and Alicia," he said in recognition.

Nathaniel ran forward and grabbed Serena's arm. Blair stood looking at Nathaniel in surprise. Chuck stopped beside her. "I think you have a hat just like that in one of the boxes in your closet," he managed.

"I do not," she stated simply, like a child.

"Then we will get you one," Chuck said with forced cheer. "You do not need to know where they bought the hat. How many styles can there be? We can find it anywhere."

Serena laughed at the absurdity of her brother's statement. And then she remembered that she was still at fault, so she stopped. "There are a million styles, Chuck."

"Look, you two should not be talking to them." Nathaniel's voice dropped. "They have rather sullied reputations."

"Oh," Blair gasped. She remembered the book that Daniel Humphrey had held out to them in the bookstore the day before. "You mean they are in Harris' List?"

Chuck did not know why, but the words from Blair's mouth seemed offensive to his senses. "What do you know of Harris' List?" He needed to know who would soil his innocent bride's ears to tell her any such thing. He looked up at Nathaniel, who he instantly suspected.

"Daniel Humphrey showed us a book," she whispered back.

"He did, did he not?" Chuck's eyes narrowed and he glared at Serena. "Yes, they are probably listed there. So come along," he told her. "Walk the other way."

"The man who dropped off the red-haired woman seemed quite well off," Blair observed. "He had an impressive phaeton."

"Why are we still talking about this?" Chuck said out loud, finding it unsettling to have his bride continuing a conversation about mistresses and prostitutes, which was all that Harris' List contained.

Nathaniel chuckled. For the first time, Chuck sounded like a prude. "Lady Blair, mistresses may have very powerful patrons."

She shrugged. "Do you have one?" she asked Nathaniel.

Chuck froze. "This is not appropriate conversation."

Nathaniel shook his head, and Chuck wanted to gut him. Chuck drew cold when Blair turned to look at him. He sighed in relief when she turned away without asking.

The day was starting to get hot, and the sun was almost directly above their heads. Quick to grab the moment, Nathaniel turned to Serena. "The Danvers' ball is tomorrow, Serena. I hope you have a gown selected."

Serena sighed, because she had planned to spend the night reading the novel that Daniel had given to her. It was, however, still expected that she come. She wondered if Nathaniel had a romance brewing on the side as well. It was not often that men of Nathaniel's station and breeding not have a mistress in Hanover. Everyone hushed about it, but everyone knew as well. She regarded Nathaniel's profile, and thought about how he seemed rather satisfied with himself. "I do," she told him, although there had been no chance to choose one.

Serena smiled at Nathaniel and then took Blair's hand. She felt Blair extricate her hand. She turned to her friend with a frown. "What is it, B?"

"Where is my lord?" Blair whispered.

Serena placed an arm around Blair's shoulders. After having ignored the marquis, or having snapped at him for most of the excursion, having Blair ask for her stepbrother now sent warning signals in her brain. "Chuck!" Serena called out, for the first time that day using the name she used fondly for her brother.

Chuck turned and immediately saw Serena's concern and Blair's complexion turning white as sheet. He strode towards them, but before he reached her Blair had fallen onto her hands and knees, heaving dryly onto the grass. He turned to Nathaniel, who nodded and ran towards the street to hail a hackney.

He helped Blair to her feet. "What were we thinking not taking a carriage?" he muttered. She sniffled, then buried her face in his sleeve. Chuck's heart clenched. If during their spat, she would seem so helpless against him, it stood to reason that she must feel something absolutely foul. His voice softened. "I will take care of you, my love," he whispered.

She nodded, then raised moist eyes to him. "I think I should see the doctor now," she gave in, despite her earlier insistence that she did not need one.

In full view of anyone in the streets or the park, Chuck lifted his fiancé in his arms and strode towards where Nathaniel waited with a hackney.

"Put me down, my lord. I will walk."

"Chuck, everyone can see. It is unseemly," Serena added.

Chuck brought her up higher against him and continued walking. "Let them talk until their tongues fall off. My lady is ill and she will not suffer through the distance to the street just to avoid a blind item in the Gazette."

~o~o~o~o~o~

It was a tense wait, and he would have preferred to stay in her room as the doctor checked her. When she requested that he remain outside, he had been hurt and wondered if this was another form of punishment she had for him for lying about Nathaniel.

But it was shallow, and he doubted Blair could even think of ways to punish him when she was so sick.

The doctor opened the door and allowed him inside, and Chuck strode towards where Blair sat on the bed. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Chuck turned to the doctor. "What is it? Why is she ill?"

The kindly old man nodded towards Blair. "I believe the lady wishes to give you the news herself."

Chuck turned to his fiancé and held his breath. And it was then that she gave him her brilliant smile. She cupped his face, then pulled him down for a kiss. And then, she breathed against his lips, "We are with child, my lord."

The worry vanished from his eyes, and it was as if a wave of light washed over him. He cleared his throat and smiled. "My God," he murmured. "A child?" he said in wonder. His eyes fell to her belly covered by the blanket. He placed a tentative hand on it and drew a deep breath.

He looked up at her and saw her smiling down at him with tears in her eyes. Chuck leaned down and placed a kiss right above her womb, where even then their child slept. Her fingers buried in his hair. "Have I made you happy, my love?" she asked softly. "Tell me I have and all the sickness will be worth it."

He moved over to sit by her, and then kissed her lips. "All the happiest moments of my life you have given me, Blair. I do not remember any time before you."

He heard the movement from the other side of the bed. Chuck looked over at the doctor, then stood. He squeezed her hand and released it, then walked towards the doctor. "I trust in your discretion, sir," he said quietly.

"Of course, my lord," the older man stammered, sensing the chill in his voice that had not been present as he celebrated with the lady.

"If this news reaches anyone outside this room, I will make your life a living hell. You will take your practice outside of London," he warned. "Outside England. You will—"

"Chuck," Blair said softly. "Come, my love. Leave the poor man alone."

Chuck glanced back at his beautiful bride. His vision cleared at her smile. He turned back to the doctor and said, "We will require your services each week until the child is born." The doctor nodded briskly. "Thank you. You may go."

The doctor left, and Chuck returned to his place beside Blair. She lay back and invited him to do so as well. As they lay fully clothed beside each other, he placed his hand on her belly and thought he felt the tiniest fluttering wings of a butterfly against his palm.

To her pleasant surprise, his low voice soothing and warm to her ear, when he started singing an old folk song from the sixteenth century. "Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine."

"Chuck," she exclaimed. "That's beautiful. I did not know you sang," Blair told him as she turned to him.

"The thirst that from the soul doth rise, doth ask a drink divine but might I Jove's nectar cup, I would not change for thine." He smiled down at her and placed a kiss on her lips. "I sent thee late a rosy wreath, not so much honoring thee as giving it a hope that there it could not withered be."

"If only we had my father's piano," she said, "I will play it for you, and you can sing to me."

"But thou thereon didst only breathe and sent it back to me. Since when it grows, and smells, I swear—"

Blair picked up the old familiar song of love, "Not of itself, but thee." She smiled. "You are a romantic, my lord."

"For you, my love, I am," he promised. He entwined their fingers and saw the glittering diamond she had so loved in Florence. "Have you ever taken off your ring?"

"Never once."

"Well, if you had, you would have thought me romantic from the first," he pointed out.

Blair smiled uncertainly, then disengaged her hand from his. She pulled the ring off her finger, then squinted to read the engraved words she did not know it bore. "B, This is a promise. C," she read softly.

tbc


	17. Chapter 17

Part 17

He had never been much of a drinker. In fact, he had never been inside an establishment like this one before. The modest means with which Daniel Humphrey lived did not allow for excesses such as this. The small amount that his parents could scrape together was spent putting food on the table. They had lived so humbly that over time, the poverty had taken its toll on the young couple. The young Scots musician Rufus Humphrey soon found himself left alone to care for two children.

As Daniel moved among the ton, he witnessed the excesses and sometimes the depravity. Attending school with children born into such an aristocratic world was enough to give him an appreciation for the life he had. No matter how poor they had been, Rufus had instilled in his two children a sense of loyalty and honor that could not be faulted. Until, of course, his little sister Jennifer discovered a hunger for a world she would never be a part of. At the tender age of fourteen she had met a boy from that world who claimed he loved her, and she had jumped at the chance and ran away with him.

Sometimes at night, Daniel wondered how Jennifer looked like now, or whether she was still alive. Did she have children? Did she achieve her dreams? He wondered if they would one day pass by each other in the street and not one of them would be the wiser.

It was his grace, Bartholomew Bass, Duke of Devonshire, that drew him out of a pool of talented, promising young solicitors and gave him more responsibility than he could ever hope to have. And so Daniel had been carrying an inordinate amount of guilt for the past half year for violating his trust. It was not a huge matter of concern for Serena. However, despite her insistence that she was not an aristocrat—not having been born into a title herself—Daniel knew that she would never understand his world view. She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and never had to struggle for much of anything. To Daniel, integrity was the only thing he held to such esteem. Loyalty could never be questioned by an accountant who would open his books and compare it with those of the other young men who competed in the race.

It left him with one choice alone. He needed to bow out of a highly esteemed post with the duke. There was no way he could look himself in the mirror if he was still under Lord Devonshire's employ but maintaining a relationship with his stepdaughter. His loyalty had already been questioned by his decision to keep Lord Charles' decision to take Lady Blair—an act that was for naught since Serena spilled the beans on it the same day.

An overflowing mug was placed on the table, spilling ale on the old wood. Daniel looked up and saw a young woman with black curly hair smiling at him. "You look like you're in trouble," she said easily.

It was her job to build rapport, he knew. She would want him to tell the story so that she could keep him drinking and paying. "This is fine," he managed.

The woman narrowed her eyes. She extended a hand. "Vanessa."

He took her hand and shook it. "Daniel Humphrey."

"You're like me, but you're not," she observed. "I can hear it in your voice—education…" Daniel nodded. "And disdain." She chuckled. "You're a ton brat. Someone rich and mighty paid your pay through university."

He wanted to take offense, but he had too many problems to do so. "That will be all, Vanessa. Thank you."

And then a flash of recognition hit her. "I remember you! I saw you before, in the duke's townhouse. You are Lord Hartington's man."

And that was where his loyalty had come into question the last time. "I was really Lord Devonshire's secretary, leant to his son for a trip abroad," Daniel clarified. "You are Nathaniel's…" he trailed off, unwilling to offend.

She was, for her part, unwilling to expound. Vanessa sank uninvited into the chair in front of Daniel. "Why so down?"

And because they were the same but also not, Daniel drank his ale. He now understood what was so special with ale, and drank down half of the contents. "The woman I love is now with her fiancé, to a ball I would never be invited to."

Vanessa nodded. "That sounds about right."

"They are perfect together." Daniel glanced at her. "You should see them. Golden statuettes like something out of a Greek mythology painting. Boticello has nothing on that beauty."

Vanessa's lips parted in recognition. She may not be educated enough to recognize the name of Boticello, but she could imagine what he thought. She had nightmares of the two as well. "You are in love with Miss van der Woodsen?" she asked hesitantly.

Daniel nodded, immersed still in his own world. "No matter my education, or that I have become secretary to one of the most prestigious families here in London, I would never work myself up to deserve her."

And then she reached for his mug of ale and drank the rest of it herself. Daniel stared at her in shock. "And Lord Nathaniel is consumed about saving his family name that he is unwilling to marry someone he does not love," she shared. Daniel recognized the desolation in her voice as similar to his own. "First, Lady Blair. And I understood that he was bogged by a ten year old vow. But Miss van der Woodsen? It came out of nowhere and he is now resolved to marry her."

Daniel leaned back and studied the woman in front of him. In her worn clothes and the sweat of the pub clinging to her neck, he could not imagine her beside Lord Nathaniel Archibald for longer than the amount of time it would take to deliver his ale. Still, stranger things had happened.

"Quite the opposite for me. She insists that she wants to throw it all away, ruin her reputation and run away to Gretna Green."

"Well?" Vanessa demanded. "That is a boon. Go and run away," she urged him.

He shook his head. "We will run out of money and she will loathe me." His parents had been romantic as well, and run away and wed when they both knew they would never make enough to raise a family. But they were both artists and the prospect sounded wonderful at that time. Rufus discovered that ideals such as that did not hold when his wife started hating the life they had and despising her family for causing it. "Right now she looks at me as if I can give her the moon and the stars. But that is only because she is sitting comfortably inside her gilded cage."

~o~o~o~o~o~

Chuck had been cautious about having them attend the Danvers' ball. It was, after all, Lord and Lady Danvers who brought rumors to England regarding Chuck's scuffle with Aaron Rose in Eleanor's masquerade ball. He could not even begin to imagine how they found out. The only people who could attest to the event were himself, Daniel Humphrey, Lady Blair and Aaron Rose. Daniel and Blair had been busy caring for him at the time, and so it could only have been Aaron Rose who leaked the information that could only hurt him more.

Chuck moved his shoulder some when phantom pain from his old gunshot wound throbbed. He did not discount the possibility that Aaron Rose was behind his shooting in Paris, but that was a fact that he never once mentioned to Blair. And nor would he ever. The business of protecting her fell on his shoulders, and he would not cause one drop of worry if he could prevent it. He would be the protector, and she could, in their impending marriage, focus on ensuring that their child grew strong inside her.

He looked down at the woman beside him. Even now her breasts swelled beautifully from above the modest décolletage of her gown. He placed a hand on her belly. It had not changed yet. He was anxious to feel it curve under his palm. It had become a habit since they discovered her condition, and she did not complain. Instead, she placed her hand to cover his.

"Do you feel well?" he asked, his voice husky, as if unwilling to disturb the relative peace they found inside the carriage. Chuck was grateful that Nathaniel brought his own to escort Serena and her grandmother to the ball. These small moments alone with Blair were something of a treasure to him.

"To my surprise, very well, my lord," she answered, huddling closer to his form. "I have started to suspect that baby was making me so sick to announce his presence, for he has become so cooperative now."

"You have not been sick the whole day," he said in agreement. "So baby just wanted attention very early."

Blair looked up at Chuck. "But I would be happy to stay sick if we can have a healthy boy for you, my lord."

At that, he sucked in a breath and took her lips for a passionate kiss. "I want to shower you with all of the world, my love," he vowed.

"What will I do with all the world?" she replied softly. "I only ever need you."

The short ride to the Danvers' was soon over. Almost reluctantly, Chuck stepped out of the carriage and reached for Blair. They walked to the foyer and to the top of the ballroom staircase.

As they were announced, everyone looked up. It was Blair's debut into London society. She felt the stares and saw most everyone turn their heads to the sides to whisper or to listen while their eyes did not move away from her. She stiffened beside Chuck, and reached for his hand. He squeezed and leaned over to her ear. "You are Lady Waldorf, only daughter and heiress of Lord Harold Waldorf, comtesse du Montaigne." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And though they do not know it yet, you are the marchioness of Hartington, my lady, the next duchess of Devonshire. Show them what that means, Blair," he encouraged.

She took a deep breath and turned to him, then gave him a devilish, confident smile. Blair squeezed his hand back and descended the steps with him by her side.

At the bottom step, she released his hand. He watched in awe and with pride as she glided through the crowds and stopped from one group to another. The huddled women eagerly called her attention, and Blair nodded to them as she passed.

Chuck grew concerned when he saw Lady Castlemaigne pull Blair towards her group. Serena had warned him about her and her small group of friends, and how harshly they spoke about Blair after news of their flight from Paris reached the London ton. He made his way towards them and caught the tailend of their conversation.

"How was Florence, dear?"

"Florence was idyllic," Blair answered vaguely. Chuck suspected she had hedged many times before. "The villa was beautiful and the climate was perfect."

Kitty Anderson asked next, "Is it true, my dear, that Lord Charles' villa only has his staff. Or was your mother with you two, and we did not hear of it?" He saw Blair tense once more, perhaps because she recognized the truth behind the question. She gave a tight smile. Before she could respond, the woman continued, "Of course Lady Rose was with you." She tittered. "You would certainly not have stayed alone with a man of Lord Hartington's repute."

Mrs Roberts nodded. "Certainly not you, Lady Blair. You had been in society all your life. Surely your mother drilled all the implications to you."

Chuck saw Blair tighten her smile and grow pale.

"Truthfully, I do not believe a household of staff can be considered being alone with Lord Hartington. And as for your comment of his repute, ma'am," Blair responded, emphasizing on the lack of a title that she could use, "I assure you that my lord is the perfect gentleman. You would only be so lucky as to spend two weeks alone with him!"

Chuck stopped beside her and placed a hand on the small of her back. He turned to the women who gathered around Blair. "Lady Castlemaigne, Miss Anderson, Mrs Roberts," he greeted. "I had been searching for you. Will you make it to our nuptials on Saturday?"

Lady Castlemaigne humphed, then fanned herself. "At Hanover then?" she inquired haughtily.

Blair's eyes narrowed, and Chuck nodded. "St George's."

The lady glanced at Blair, then shrugged. "We will be there."

When the three moved away, Blair turned to Chuck and demanded, "Why invite them, Chuck? They do not care about us. They were speaking ill of you."

He looked down at her enraged expression. "And though I am thankful to have a wife who will steadfastly defend my honor, I do want you to feel welcome here, my love. London will be home. We cannot afford to have you offend them early. We will build you first. And when you're all that they adore, we will tear them down."

"Every one of the biddies who would speak ill of you," she decided.

He smiled at her eagerness. "Now there is something to look forward to when we are an old married Society couple. Now mingle," he said softly. "I hope that you would not encounter anyone who would speak badly of me. I do not think I can rescue them from your wrath."

Chuck watched fondly as she disappeared into the crowd. He felt the tap on his back and turned around to find Nathaniel.

"Have you spoken with the doctor?" Nathaniel inquired. "It is not often that a young woman falls sick in a sunny afternoon, when she had been well the entire morning."

Chuck grinned, wanting to exclaim that one did when they were expecting. He kept quiet though. In a ballroom such as this, even a whisper could be as loud as a scream. He and Blair were still enjoying the secret, and it was so much more special that the only ones who knew of their child were the two of them. "She is well. Perhaps it was the heat."

Familiar, haunting strings floated to their eyes. Chuck turned around slowly towards the grand piano at the corner of the room. There he saw Blair's fingers moving over the keys swiftly as she played the song he had sung to her the day before, when they found out about the baby. He saw her look up from the keys without stopping the music. She met his eyes and smiled. To Chuck, it was as if everyone else in the room vanished, and they were the only ones there.

"She is amazing," Nathaniel observed. "She had always been amazing. She was stellar at Fur Elise at age eight. And now… what is that song?" he thought aloud. "Is it a French ballad?"

"Song to Celia," he answered. "Ben Jonson."

Nathaniel gave his friend a sideways look, then chuckled. "I will not ask how you knew it. Blair probably played it over and over until you were near sick with boredom."

Chuck grinned. "How well you know her," he commented, keeping the irony out of his voice as he said it. Nathaniel Archibald did not need to know that it was Chuck who, in a fit of overwhelming emotions, had first sung the poem to his bride.

After the song, Blair rose to her feet to receive the polite applause of those who gathered around the piano. She nodded her thanks, and smiled when Chuck applauded from afar. She looked up when Serena stopped in front of her. "I need to talk to you." Blair nodded, and walked with her to the corridor.

Serena looked around to check if there was anyone who could eavesdrop. When she was reassured, she said, "This is between us."

"Of course." Blair squeezed her friend's hand. "You seem troubled."

"It is about love," Serena shared.

"Mr Humphrey?" Blair clarified.

"I am running out of patience," Serena said in a swift gush. "He is completely unwilling to take a chance." And then she sighed. "You are fortunate you have my brother. He does not hesitate at all."

This made Blair smile. "I did not think so at the beginning, when maman picked him. I suppose that is one thing I should thank my maman for." And then she asked, "Has he said why he hesitates? Perhaps he has a sound reason."

Serena shook her head. They rounded the corner, and found themselves walking behind another young woman. Serena pointed to the flapping sleeve. And the she recognized her.

"We should help," Blair suggested.

"No!" Serena hissed. "Do you not see? It is one of those women we saw in the park."

Blair grimaced. "It hurts my eyes to see such a fashion disaster."

Serena shook her head. "Well I am leaving," she announced. "I still have a reputation to protect, unlike you who are set on my brother. You are as good as married, anyway." She slipped away.

Blair called to the woman. "Katerina? Alicia?"

The woman turned around and frowned. "Alicia," she provided. "May I help you?"

Blair shook her head. "Your sleeve is torn and almost off. I can help you."

Alicia gasped and touched the sleeve, then felt the torn thread. "Oh no."

"If only we had something to hold it together?" Blair asked tentatively.

At that, Alicia brightened. She opened her small bag of rogue and powder. "There is something here that we can use. My patron left it on my bed this morning. I was about to return it, but I think we can put it to use this once."

Blair watched as Alicia pulled out a white satin ribbon from the bag. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she froze.

Alicia held out the ribbon to her. Blair stared at the small embroidered B at the end. "Will this do?"

"It will do," she whispered. Calmly, she took the ribbon from the redhead's hand, and then wove it through the large lacy gaps of the bodice and the sleeve. When she was done, she tied it tightly, then patted her handiwork. "Good as new."

Alicia inspected the work, then gave Blair a brilliant smile. "It looks nice," she commented.

Blair nodded and said, "Do you know where the bathroom is? I think I will be sick." Alicia pointed to the direction, and Blair hurried away.

Meanwhile, Serena made her way back to the ball. As she passed, she heard someone call to her. She turned around and noticed Lady Danvers waving. "Great," she muttered. "This was the woman who spread the news of Chuck's escape, and the main reason that she was trapped in an engagement to Nate. She made her way over to the older woman and smiled. "My lady," Serena greeted.

"Darling, I heard you had to catch Lord Nathaniel after what your brother did."

"Lady Danvers, Lord Nathaniel is a fine gentleman. I am certain he will be a finer husband," she responded in her cool, practiced manner.

"Pity that. You could have had more prospects."

Serena shook her head. "Who can possibly be a better prospect for me than Lord Nathaniel?"

Lady Danvers leaned close to Serena and said, "This is what I know." Serena rolled her eyes, because the gossip was about to spill. "Lord Marcus Beaton is becoming a count!"

Serena frowned. The gentleman in question had been two years older than Chuck and Nate, and went to the same university as the two. His family even had the estate right beside Hartington. He had been an acceptable enough fellow, but never became part of Chuck and Nate's inner circle that consisted of the eldest sons, the only heirs. "That cannot be. Lord Marcus' brother is the count. Lord Marcus is no more than a second son, who will likely have to work for his brother."

"Well, his brother was killed, and left to Lord Marcus his estate along with his young daughter to raise." Lady Danvers said in a hushed voice. "You are aware that the girl's mother died two years ago."

Serena slowly nodded. "Lord Marcus is an earl now, and looking for a wife to raise his brother's daughter?"

"You will be perfect for the role, my dear. You get to be countess."

"Not interested, Lady Danvers. I think I should stay and be Nathaniel's bride instead." Serena laughed softly and went her way. At least Lady Danvers had the chance to reveal her juicy new discovery.

She stopped when she spied her stepbrother. She quickened her pace to tell him of what she had learned from Lady Danvers. After all, Chuck always liked to know any developments in Society to rearrange his own business priorities. She almost made it to him when Chuck strode towards the redhead that she and Blair had encountered in the corridor. She stepped forward to hear, but remained out of sight.

"What are you doing here, Alicia?"

"Looking for a new patron, my lord. You do remember that you let me go," Alicia pointed out.

Alicia was Chuck's mistress! Of course Alicia would be up and about, displaying herself to the Society gentlemen. A mistress does that when she was available again, to attract the fine gentlemen of the ton to her wares. It would have been easy to secure an invitation to the ball as well. Only Almack's was strict in attendance.

"Where did you get that?"

Serena squinted and saw the satin ribbon holding the sleeve in place.

"It is holding my gown in place. Thank heavens someone was around to help me fix it."

Alicia nodded towards the direction of the corridors. Chuck saw her, his Blair, standing there staring at them with expressionless eyes.

tbc


	18. Chapter 18

AN: I think I am setting my own record for frequency of updates.

Part 18

Her chin jutted out and she met his gaze with a glare of her own. Chuck's eyes narrowed as she turned away and looked around her. Easily, she spotted her former fiancé and placed a hand on his arm. For his part, Nathaniel Archibald's somber face melted into a welcoming smile upon recognizing who it was.

Lord Nathaniel bowed before her and offered his hand. Blair stepped into his arms and allowed Nathaniel to whirl her around the room. As the glided, Chuck could see the fans that fanned quicker, hear the tongues that wagged faster, feel the eyes that grew sharper.

Behind him, he heard the familiar voices of his father and the duchess. But he could not turn around to manage a proper greeting. Instead he was captivated by the sight of Lady Blair in a scandalous waltz with a man who was no longer her fiancé. Nathaniel's hand was on the small of her back, and she was pressed against him so closely it was as if she was on a Parisian floor rather than London's more pretentiously conservative one.

"Look at them, darling," he heard Anne Archibald's voice. So Nathaniel's parents had once again arrived with Chuck's family. Chuck disliked the connection, but his father was always in control. Lady Anne continued, "Remember when they were children and little Nathaniel kissed her hand? Lady Blair blushed to the roots of her hair, and they were so beautiful together." She gave an audible sigh. "All that perfection going to waste."

It was Lilly who responded. "Nathaniel and Serena look even more perfect together, Lady Anne. I wonder where my daughter is."

Anne huffed. "I have seen them together. They appear stiff and uncomfortable still."

"That is because they are newly betrothed, sweetheart," the admiral offered.

Chuck smirked. If even the admiral, as absorbed as he was with himself, could notice that neither Serena nor Nate was happy with the match, then it was more than apparent.

And it was Anne's voice again, so sickeningly saccharine that Chuck wanted to just walk away. "It is just so humiliating to have to hear Lady Blair announced tonight with your son. I had always imagined her introduction to London society, and she was always with Nathaniel."

"Let it rest, Anne," the admiral warned.

"I just cannot believe that you put your honor on the line to cover up the mess," Anne confided in a whisper. "Only to have it be for naught."

Bartholomew cleared his throat. "I have offered you're my stepdaughter and more money than you can hope to get elsewhere," he said, his voice hard.

"You are right," Anne capitulated. "And a duel for a woman's hand, no matter how illegal, is still very rational, your grace."

Chuck stiffened at the words, because he had never asked how it was that his father came to kill Harold Waldorf. He frowned. His father had brought Lilly home after his last trip to France. Three years ago. He had been in a dark mood for months, and Lilly had stayed close throughout. It was during one vacation from school that Chuck learned about his new stepmother and stepsiblings. Eric had not yet been sent to boarding school, but the boy had spoken perfect French for a Dutch heir.

"All I am saying is that if Serena and Nathaniel cannot make this engagement last, then we should consider that Lady Blair does not seem opposed to my son. They do have a long history."

Chuck's gritted his teeth and shoved his father's problems away from his head. The duke had to exorcise his own demons, and Chuck needed to stake a claim on his own life before Nathaniel could try. He saw a glimpse of Blair's white throat as she threw back her head to laugh at something that his best friend shared. He stalked over to where the two paused in their dance.

He stepped close to Blair and hissed, "Stop. You are providing fodder for rumor mongers."

Her laughter faded, and she set her jaw, then turned her back on him. She looked up at Nathaniel and said, "Will you take me out for some air, my lord?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Certainly."

Without pausing for consideration, Chuck laid a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder and jerked him back. Nathaniel stumbled back, eliciting a gasp from the people surrounding them. Blair looked around and then glared at Chuck, shaking her head.

Chuck bared his teeth at his friend, then turned to Blair. "We are going home," he stated.

"Wait." Nathaniel looked at the girl who used to be his intended. "Is this what you want, my lady?"

Chuck's hand fisted. Blair nodded. She placed a calming hand on his arm, but did not look at him. Inside the carriage on their way home, Chuck said quietly. "There is something we need to discuss."

She looked out the window. "I am too exhausted to speak with you," she said, her voice cold.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Blair woke in her bed and felt something heavy on her stomach. She opened her eyes and saw the heavy arm around her middle. She moved her body and found herself limited by the presence of a body pressed up behind her.

"Chuck," she said softly.

She lifted his hand off her and climbed out of the bed. She remained quiet as she changed quickly. She did not wish to wait for Dorota, because there was no desire within her at that moment to speak with Chuck. If there was any noise, he was sure to wake and ask for a discussion. She suspected it was why he slept in her bed when he was mostly firm about sleeping apart until the wedding.

"Tomorrow," Blair realized. They were to be married tomorrow and she was uncertain now. She padded out of the room in a simple morning smock.

"Lady Blair."

She turned and saw the older woman, Serena's grandmother, sitting in the balcony with tea and scones. "Lady Rhodes, good morning."

"Come, my dear," Cece invited. "I fear I have been so busy chaperoning my granddaughter that I have neglected you."

Blair shook her head. "There was no need." She settled into the seat across from Cece.

"Well, I know how nervous you must be for tomorrow."

Blair shook her head. "Not at all. Lord Charles has been everything that I had hoped for," she lied. There were many things that she and Chuck needed to settle, but it would not be done by an old lady from the ton who was here more for Serena. Blair and Chuck took care of their own concerns, settled their own issues, solved their own problems. Nobody else had business with theirs.

"Have something to eat then," Cece urged her. "My, my. You are a tad too slender, dear. You will need to have a healthier constitution if you are to bear Lord Charles' children." Blair gave the older woman a tight smile. "And you will. He will expect a male heir as soon as possible, and then a second son. There should always be a second son, especially for a duchy."

Blair's hand involuntarily went to her belly. "Chuck has no brother."

Cece sipped her tea. Her face took on a dreamy expression as she remembered. "That is an exception. I remember those days. Bartholomew was a hothead when he fell in love with Misty." Blair's lips parted. Stories such as there were hard to come by, and she should have known that Serena's grandmother would have many of them in store. She had been in society long before Lilly married a Dutch businessman. "He was head over heels, with his heart on his sleeve. Very much unlike the somber man he is these days."

Blair could not imagine the rough spoken duke as the brazen young man Cece described. Cece smiled at the memory. "He loved that woman." Cece regarded the French girl in front of her. "Come to think of it, she looked a little like you. When she was carrying Charles, Bartholomew treated her like a fragile princess."

"What happened?" Blair asked quietly, knowing the story would not end well. If it did, Lilly would not be the duchess.

Cece sighed. "Bass men are larger than life," she shared, and Blair agreed. "Bass children are havoc on a woman's body, my dear. That is why I am advising you. Build up your constitution."

"Do you mean—"

"Misty died giving birth to Charles," Cece told her. "She had not been much smaller than you are, dear." She handed the plate of scones to Blair, who took one and bit into it.

"He did not wed again until the duchess?"

"For a long time, the duke was unwilling to consider another woman. Until Lilly," was the answer. "Now," Cece decided, "given that your mother is not here, I believe the responsibility falls on me to speak with you about your wedding night."

"Lady Rhodes," Blair stammered, "I do not think we should."

"But, my dear, you cannot go off on your first night with Lord Charles and not know what to expect."

"Lord Charles is a good teacher," Blair blurted out. Stories were fine to hear from Serena's grandmother, but Blair did not need the old woman to describe the act to her. "He taught me to play chess," Blair added for clarification.

Cece's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you certain? I would feel inept if you are shocked or fearful when he goes to your bed."

"Lady Rhodes, truly," Blair insisted.

"Then perhaps we should talk about last night," Cece told her. "Many people are talking about Lord Charles and Lord Nathaniel's small scuffle." Blair shook her head. "Is it about his mistress?" When Blair gasped in surprise, Cece smiled and nodded. "Young people always think that the older ones know nothing of their affairs. My dear, it is one of those things you must accept. Most all noblemen have mistresses."

Blair moistened her lips. "So they say," she whispered. Blair did not elaborate. Those words were reserved for only one person. "I have to go."

She made her way back to her bedroom and found Chuck still sleep in her bed. Blair walked over to the end of the room and looked out the window. There were a few people already walking out in the morning sun. A couple of carriages drove by. Out there, the world continued to live its life. In her room, with Chuck asleep, it was as if everything was on pause.

She felt him before she saw him. He aligned his body against hers as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. He placed a kiss on the crook of her neck. Blair's eyes closed, and felt herself start to cry.

"I am losing my mind," he rasped against her skin. "I cannot bear that you are hurting, my love."

She sniffled, but did not turn around to face him. "I know it is accepted in your world, my lord. It is the same in mine. But I cannot accept another woman in our lives," she confessed. "But if I should lose you over this—"

"Never," he swore.

"Maybe I can live with it," she said softly. "As long you come home to me every night." Blair closed her eyes, then shook her head. "I can't," she exclaimed. "It does not make me a good wife, but I cannot live like any other woman in your world, Chuck. I cannot abide by this."

He took her hand and brought it up to his lips. "Alicia is gone," he told her. "I have not been with her since before I met you."

"One fight, Chuck. One fight and you ran straight into her arms."

"I have not been with any woman since you."

She shook her head. "One fight and you run to her home. It does not matter what you did or did not do. There is another woman in our lives, one you can run to for comfort."

His voice dropped. "Like you run to Nathaniel for the same?"

She turned around in his arms. "He has been my confidante for ten years, Chuck."

"When will either of you cease bringing up that wretched decade?" Blair stepped back at the spite in his voice. "Everywhere I turn there is one person who brings up that lost decade. Nothing happened in that infernal decade apart from a little girl writing letters to a boy who is lying in wait for an heiress." He took a deep breath, then pulled her hand. "I apologize." Blair turned away from him. "Blair—"

"You need to leave, my lord. I am off to meet with the duchess about the final arrangements for tomorrow."

"I shall take you there."

"Of course," she said coldly. "I would say that Lord Nathaniel has offered to take me, but I am afraid you will remember that useless decade and explode."

~o~o~o~o~o~

"It was the first time I was alive again since Misty died."

Chuck turned around and saw his father walk into the library while Chuck waited for Blair to finish with Lilly. The last time he spoke to the duke was the day he walked out with Blair in his arms, that dinner when Bartholomew revealed his part in Harold Waldorf's death. He had been loathe to come by. He needed to take Blair out of the house immediately for fear that longer exposure to his father would be that much more chance for her to discover the truth.

It seemed a sin to take her here now.

"What are you talking about?" Chuck demanded.

"One advice my grandfather told me was that you should never give everything you are to a woman," Bartholomew shared. "He was a wise man, my grandfather. He knew the Bass temperament, knew it was difficult for a Bass to fall in love, but when we do, we tended to give it our all—so much we lose ourselves."

"I see no wrong in that."

"I loved your mother like that." Chuck shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at the turn of conversation. He and his father did not speak of his mother. They had not done it once since Chuck was born. It was criminal to listen to the staid duke speak of his deceased wife in that manner. "I was a brash young man and I gave it everything." He shook his head. "That was a mistake. Always leave some for yourself. If you do not, and when they leave, you are left with nothing. I was a shell of a man when she died."

"You talk about it as if she were at fault. She died, father."

"I was wrong," Bartholomew told his son. "I thought if you gave someone everything you are, there is no chance she will leave you. You took care of that."

"Where is this going?"

"Lilly van der Woodsen was the first person to make me come alive since Misty died," Bartholomew shared. He walked closer to his son. "I am telling you this because I need you to understand why. You have despised me since you learned about the comte."

"The admiral covered it up."

"It was a duel. Your stepmother had been involved with Blair's father at the time. When I grew enamored of her in France, Harold insisted in a time-honored tradition."

"It had been outlawed for years, father," Chuck said softly.

Bart nodded. "That is why I am in debt to the Archibalds. He bribed the constable to make it appear like a stray bullet, a hunting incident."

"I was fifteen." The two turned and found Blair at the door, looking ghostly white as she looked straight at the duke. "We were out hunting, and he told me he would be back. And his man dragged him to me dying. It was all I could do to stay conscious when we talked me through washing the wound and draining the blood." She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, it was at Chuck that she looked at. "He died in my arms. My lord, I cannot be part of this family," she sobbed.

Blair turned around and ran out of the townhouse. Chuck ran after her and stopped at the doorway. Nathaniel held up his hand as he held Blair, then helped her up to his carriage.

"Blair!" Chuck called.

She looked back at him, then shook his head. "Not now."

~o~o~o~o~o

Nathaniel opened the door for Chuck and cocked his head towards the guest wing. Chuck looked at Nathaniel suspiciously before heading on up the stairs. At the bottom step, Chuck saw Lady Anne watching the two.

"She is exhausted."

"I need to speak with her," he said briskly.

Nathaniel nodded and led Chuck to the bedroom that he had deposited Blair in. He turned back and followed. When he opened the door, Nathaniel gave him a pat of reassurance and left.

He settled into the seat by the bed. "Blair," he said softly, waiting for her to wake. "Blair, my love, wake up."

She did not move, but her red-rimmed eyes opened. "Chuck?"

He moved to sit next to her on the bed. "You are right. We cannot live with all the secrets." She nodded her head sadly. Chuck remembered his father's words, and thought of how gut-wrenching the decision would be, but told himself that whatever this pain would be so much easier than if he waited. "After the wedding, I am sending you to Hartington with Daniel Humphrey. He will see to your monies, your affairs."

"What?" she said in a small voice. Whatever she had expected, it was not this calm, collected decision.

"Our son will have my name," he assured her. "And you can live in peace away from a family you despise, away from the man who hurts you at every turn." When she started to tear up, he sighed. "I am trying to fix it now, and still I make you cry." Chuck brought her hand to his lips. "I am very sorry to learn what my father had done to yours, Blair, but I cannot live in fear of whether tomorrow, you would have had enough of me and leave for Nathaniel and your past."

"Because I run to Nathaniel? My lord, I have done not one thing that could shame you."

"Blair, let me fix it. This is how."

"This is not happening," she whispered. "I do not understand."

"It is time we stop the up and down, love and hate, deception and forgiveness. We are bound to destroy each other if we do not fix it now."

"You promised me forever," she said in accusation.

"This is the only way I know to save us, Blair. We have combusted so fast because we fell so fast." He paused. "We need time apart."

"That is not what I want," she whispered.

He placed a soft, trembling kiss on her cheek, and the moment his lips touched her skin, she closed her eyes and allowed the tears to fall. "Trust me, Blair. This is what we need now."

She watched him leave the room. "Will you come for me, my lord?" she called after him. "Will you come for me at least when the child is born?"

Chuck stopped at the door. "Who knows? Perhaps even before that."

"I pray you will," she said softly.

"Now rest, Blair. The wedding is early tomorrow."

The door closed behind him. She walked over o the bed and crawled under the sheets. She cried herself to an exhausted slumber.

tbc


	19. Chapter 19

AN: I am trying very hard to maintain the T rating. It is hard work and a lot of editing for a certain part.

Part 19

The contrasts between this wedding and their first were many and wildly apparent, but it would only be herself and Chuck who would notice them. Where there was a looming solemnity to their first, in the old Roman Catholic church where they vowed to stay together, St George's was full of guests in the list that the duchess had prepared. The people lent an atmosphere of a grand ballroom to the Anglican chapel. Once upon a time she took a marquis as her husband with a small declaration, clothed in a simple dress for a jaunt into the city. Today she would say the words she had prepared only two days before, when they were elated at the prospect of a child and a lifetime together, wearing spun silk and satin and lace.

Chuck waited for her at the altar. She walked slowly, alone, down the aisle. He watched her every step with such warmth in his eyes that she could almost lull herself into believing that he did not mean to discard her to the country the moment the marriage was sealed. Her breath hitched, and she paused halfway down the aisle. She noticed his stance straighten, and his eyes shutter. She continued her walk.

When she reached him, he held out his hand. Blair looked at the proffered open palm and swallowed. How was it that he could be so calm throughout, when he knew what would happen after all of it? She placed her hand in his. When he brought it up so he could brush a kiss on the pulsepoint of her wrist, she shuddered. He had done the very same thing in Santa Maria, and he did so again in front of everyone. Was this a recreation of that day? She wished it were, because that day spelled the start of her happiness, and if he had his way, today would spell the end of it.

"Qu'est-ce qui se passé?" she breathed, the same question she had once asked before.

"You know." He turned to look up at the priest.

She would not allow the future to ruin the present. She would only ever have one wedding day as grand as this. Even if they would not be together afterwards, Blair would relish this memory on those long, cold nights in Hartington.

"_We will marry in London, in front of all the guests you want. It will be the biggest affair in Society_."

And it was, Blair thought. It was a pity that now, with Hartington looming above their heads—with Nathaniel and Alicia, with Bartholomew and Harold as phantoms—she just ached to go back to Tuscany and live their lives the way they used to when everything was so simple.

And so the voice of the church droned on in front of them. When she was asked for her vows, she nodded and faced him. His eyes. They were murder. If he was so pained, why then did he insist on this foolish decision? She could live with his family, with the knowledge of another woman who had such hold on him that he could run to her. But she could live with him. Only him. She struggled not to scream at him that there was another choice—Tuscany. They could run away again, the way they did before. They were happy in their little hilltop villa. They could raise their son there and forget London and their families.

She repeated the vows of the church, one line after the other. And then, when it came her part to add, she said, in a voice that was close to a plea, "I would give it away if it means I can stay with you forever."

She saw him draw a deep breath. The cast shadows moved over his face. His voice was deep as he repeated the vows. "You fell into my life unexpectedly, my love. I promised you forever, and we will have it. You will be in my mind, in my heart, as long as I live."

She closed her eyes even as she heard the guests sigh. To the ladies of the ton, hardened by the rules of wealth and propriety, his vow likely seemed flawless and romantic. To Blair, it was, understood in context, a goodbye.

He took her in his arms for the kiss. Blair looked up at him with a brave smile. "Make it last, my lord," she asked. "It will keep me warm all these long nights to come."

Chuck lifted the veil and cupped her cheek so tenderly. His lips moved over her softly, coaxingly. Her lips parted under his and her eyes fluttered closed. She heard the furious whispers of their guests at the sight. Instead of pulling away for their benefit, Blair wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. If this was the last kiss, then she would make sure it was memory that would keep him up at night and drive him to the brink of his sanity.

When he pulled away, he saw her tearstained cheeks and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket. Gently, he wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I now present to you the marquis and marchioness of Hartington, Lord Charles and Lady Blair Bass."

And as much as she adored him, she despised the name. It was the name of the man who murdered her father.

He was right. She would not survive London like this. She could not even bear to look at the duke who stood at the front pew.

He took her hand and placed it on his arm. "Smile, my love." They made their way hurriedly out of the church as they were pelted by rice. Laughing softly, exhilarated, he lifted her up onto the white carriage.

Blair sat on the cushioned seat and ran her hand over the painted surface. "You remembered," she said.

He nodded. "I think you will enjoy the small party that Lilly prepared for us," he assured her.

"No. Take me home, Chuck."

He regarded her quietly, and then nodded his head.

If it was the last afternoon, then he was the only one she would want to spend it with. He carried her in his arms from the carriage, up the flight of stairs and to his bedroom. For those hours, Blair willed herself to forget about tonight. He put her down and held her close so that they were standing pressed against each other. Blair reached up and cupped his face. She told him, "I can be so far away, but you will never escape me, Chuck."

He buried his face in her hair and breathed in. "I would never want to."

She captured his moist lips, then ran her hands down his belly and to the buttons of his trousers. "I want you to remember every single moment of tonight, Chuck." The pants fell down to pool at his feet. She turned around and then gathered her hair over one shoulder.

Deftly, Chuck undid each of the clasps that held the white gown together. With each length of skin, he paused and placed a brief moist kiss that made her shiver when afterwards, he blew soft air. He placed a kiss at her nape.

And then the silk and lace lay at their feet. He turned her around in his arms and cupped her breast. His hand moved down to cup her gently curving belly.

"Do you know if this will be fine for the child?" he said into her ear.

She pulled her against him and hastily pulled off his cravat, then pushed his coat off his shoulders. His lips curved at her eagerness, mindful of the first night they were together, and she had been hesitant and uncertain. She had changed so much since then.

And then they were pressed against the windows, buried in the thick curtains of the room. She lifted one leg and wrapped it around his hips. She held him in her hand and Chuck gritted his teeth and she pulled him to her. He lifted her up and helped as she sank onto him.

"Blair," he choked out as he pressed her back against the window. She was in full abandon, and he was concerned that he would hurt her. She nodded at him and intertwined her fingers with his, then placed them over his heart. Chuck drove into her and moved in a quick, steady rhythm. He searched for release. He buried himself over and over again inside her. He raised their clasped hands and pressed them against the glass window.

"Remember this, Chuck," she whispered into his ear, then bit gently on the shell. His hand tightened on hers, and he clasped the other one as well. He made love to her in a way he had never done before, almost desperately, as if he were pressed for time. She moved with him, giving him as much as he gave until she reached the point when her vision blackened and she released violently against him.

She melted against him afterwards. Blair was suspended on air and she opened her eyes to find him lifting her to the bed. And then he spread her legs and she opened her arms to welcome him back into her body. Cushioned against the pillows, she urged him on and whispered words of love until he pumped himself into a climax, and he lay against her, spent.

His dark head rested against her breast. She placed a kiss in his hair. When he moved and pulled out of her, she felt empty. And then he lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms so that it was she that lay with her cheek pressed against his heart.

She sighed against his body. Chuck closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. She was right. Every breath, every scent, every sensation of today would be branded into his brain. There was no way he could force her to forget about her father's murder. If he could will himself into the belief that Nathaniel was not a threat, and he almost could, Bartholomew Bass still killed Harold Waldorf in a duel for his stepmother.

He felt the hot liquid gathering on his chest, and his arms tightened around her. It would be like this every day, her silent tears. They were enough to render him incapacitated.

She rose from the bed, and he felt the air cooling the skin she had been pressed up against. He watched her open his closet and take a white shirt, one of his, and pull it over her head. Outside, a steady patter of rain provided music to her quick and efficient movements. With one last look at him, she turned and walked out the door.

~o~o~o~o~o~

The thunder grew louder each time. Daniel looked out the carriage window in concern. The pelting rain was so steady and thick he could barely see the trees that he was certain were lining the side of the road. There was another clap of thunder, and Lady Blair gasped in her sleep.

He had not wanted this job. Being sent to Hartington, to be Lady Blair's only guardian, to handle more money than he had ever seen in his lifetime—it was an assignment for solicitors far more experienced than he was. Daniel was certain the duke had some names at the ready if this was what Lord Charles needed.

Yet instead of refusing the assignment, Daniel Humphrey had nodded, turned around, and told Serena that he was leaving. Without him in London, Serena would not be able to insist on eloping with him to disaster. He thought back to the conversation with Lord Charles.

"Surely, my lord, you have other solicitors who can assume this responsibility. This is far too much for a secretary."

Charles had sipped his scotch, then turned back to him. "You graduated law with honors, Mr Humphrey. You are more than qualified to handle Lady Blair's affairs."

Daniel's voice dropped. He could not dare question the decision that Charles had made of sending his new wife to Hartington. Instead, he clarified, "Are you sending me as your eyes and ears, to spy on her?"

"I am sending you because I trust that whatever happens, you will protect her in my absence," the marquis told him. "Those days in Paris, when I was near death… You and Blair worked tirelessly to keep me alive. A shared experience such as that—"

"It changes people," Daniel finished for him. He had said as much to Serena when he told her that he had found an admirable woman in Paris.

"Do this for her. You will find no more important experience to tag to your career than managing her finances singlehandedly. You have your choice of jobs afterwards. London households will compete for your services."

He had agreed despite his initial reluctance. It was a chance to tempting to pass. If and when he became the renowned solicitor that Lord Charles had predicted, he knew he could provide for Serena, and they would not live on scraps that her family handed out. Then she would not grow to hate him. And he would not despise her because he would not abandon him.

The older woman beside Lady Blair reached out with a soothing hand and placed it on her lady's arm. Daniel gave Dorota a tight smile. He was grateful that Lord Charles had sent Dorota with them. Halfway out of London, Lady Blair had been inconsolable, and if it had not been for her maid, Daniel feared she would still be in tears until now. When they stopped outside a small inn for nourishment, Lady Blair had refused to touch even water until Dorota had cajoled, and urged, and force fed her at times a hot broth and a piece of bread.

Daniel had agreed to attend to Lady Blair's monetary affairs, and they were astounding by themselves. He had learned about the deal between Lord Charles and Lady Blair, about her finances fully coming to her control upon her wedding. Daniel's mind reeled at the extent of the estate that had suddenly became his to manipulate.

Despite his considerable talents though, he would not attend to Lady Blair's emotional departure from London.

When Lady Blair woke, Dorota had immediately noticed the pallor of her skin, and rapped heavily on the roof of the carriage. Lady Blair had clutched her maid's sleeve as she stumbled out of the carriage. Even in the heavy rain, she would not allow herself to be sick in the carriage. She was drenched the moment she opened the door, but Lady Blair ran out to the side of the road and threw up the soup and bread that Dorota had struggled to get into her stomach.

He had thought it was thunder at first, and he waited to the sound to stop. Shadows converged around them. From out of the blur of the steady rain pour emerged eight black horses reined by dark-hooded men, four from the north and four the south road. The short maid had wordlessly moved in front of her lady. Daniel sucked in his breath.

"There is nothing to steal here, my good men," he called out, willing his voice to rise above the roaring weather.

"Daresay ya got more'n we'll ever need, Mistuh," answered one, with a thick Cockney accent.

"I tell you the truth," Daniel assured them. "Our party is small and we carry no gold or silver with us."

One of the horses trotted forward. Daniel stiffened as it passed by him. He willed himself not to cringe in anticipation of a violent action. The horse trotted past him and stopped just in front of Dorota.

The man, their leader it seemed, hopped off the black gelding and lifted a leather clad finger and placed it under Lady Blair's chin. "What is it we have here? Une salope," he hissed. "Allo, soeur."

Lady Blair jerked her face away, then spat on the man. "Brûlez dans l'enfer!"

The brigand drew his arm back and whipped forward so quickly that Daniel could barely react. Next he saw Lady Blair sprawled in the muddy road. The black-clad man knelt in front of Lady Blair, then grabbed her cheeks with one tight grip. Daniel sprinted, but before he could reach them, two of the men caught him by his arms.

"Il a été longtemps." Daniel struggled with his captors when the man's hand fell to her neck, slowly towards the scoop of her gown. Dorota caught the man's hand and pulled. And then Dorota fell onto the ground.

"Aaron, non. S'il vous plait," Lady Blair whispered. "Je suis enceinte."

Daniel stopped struggling as soon as he heard the words. It was no ordinary group of thieves. He should have known Lady Blair's family would be so thoughtful as to travel across the channel for her wedding. As soon as he stopped fighting the restraint, his guard's grip slackened.

"What? Did I not say a slut? Married for a day and already with child?"

Lady Blair had just given Aaron Rose enough ammunition that even a man as he could not trade for a little vengeance against his stepsister.

"A jackpot!" the Frenchman exclaimed. Aaron Rose stripped off his hood and threw his arms open. "Men! Nous sommes riches!" He dragged her up by the arm, then pushed her back towards the carriage. "We will take your carriage. Nothing but the best for my sister and my nephew."

Blair shuddered when Aaron placed a hand on her belly. Only Chuck had ever done that.

"I go," Dorota wearily declared.

"Non. Dorota, you can go," Blair insisted.

"I not leave you, Lady Blair."

Aaron grimaced. "Fine. Climb in." Blair knew it was done as any favor for her. Dorota would earn her keep, and would at least make sure Blair stayed alive. He turned to Daniel and warned, "Five hundred thousand pounds or a head." And then he smirked. "Each."

And then he gestured for his men to ride on. Aaron then pointed his gun at Daniel, then pulled the trigger. Pain exploded in Daniel's upper thigh. He struggled to pull himself up, and heard Blair's screams above the rain.

tbc


	20. Chapter 20

Part 20

Serena learned of the departure the morning after. She had spent the night with her mother in the duke's townhouse, as she soon always stood now that Blair and Chuck were married and there was no need to keep up the pretenses of Cece as the chaperone. When she and her grandmother made their way back to Chuck's house to oversee the movement of Serena's wardrobe, Serena found her stepbrother inside the salon, running his hands the keys of a grand piano.

"Lord Charles, that is a beautiful instrument," commented Cece Rhodes.

Chuck nodded. "It took a long time to transport from Paris."

Serena made her way to the piano and reached out a hand. Chuck caught her wrist, then shook his head. "The piano is Blair's."

Cece smiled. "Surely she would not mind your sister—"

"No, grandma," Serena interrupted gently. "It would be best if Blair were the first one to play it here."

Chuck gave her a tight smile, then placed the lid down over the keys. Serena walked over to the settee and took a seat. Lady Rhodes nodded and did the same. The marquis requested for some tea to be brought in for his guests.

"That is rather fine work, my lord," Cece said of the piano. "How long did it take for you to have it imported?"

The loud banging on the door startled those gathered in the salon. It was Chuck who first stood and strode towards the door. Lady Rhodes, Serena's grandmother, placed a hand on Serena's arm when the young woman rose as well.

"Let your stepbrother see to it, my dear."

Serena frowned and shook her head, then followed after Chuck. She arrived at the foyer at the same time as the butler pulled the door open to a blast of rain. She gasped when she saw the man huddled against the doorframe.

"Daniel!"

Daniel Humphrey tumbled onto the floor in a mass of drenched clothing. Chuck immediately knelt beside the secretary. With his face grim, he pulled the hand that Daniel used to clutch his thigh. Chuck touched the matted cloth, then looked up. "It's blood. Call the doctor."

"Oh God," Serena choked out. In a flurry of hair and billowing cloth, she sat beside her fallen lover. "Daniel, please open your eyes."

When he did, it was not to her that he turned to but to the marquis. "My lord, I apologize," he whispered. He blinked, trying to focus. Ultimately, his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious.

Serena gathered his head on her lap. Chuck placed both hands on the man's shoulders and shook. "Humphrey, where is my wife?" he demanded. When Daniel did not respond, he shook harder. "Humphrey!" he called. "Where is Blair?"

Serena faintly pushed Chuck's hands away. "Stop," she pleaded.

Chuck scowled, then slapped Daniel's cheeks. "Wake up, Humphrey. What happened? Damn you, where is my wife?"

"Stop it!" Serena screamed, then pushed at Chuck's chest with all her might. "Leave him be."

She called to the servants to help her take Daniel up the stairs. Chuck gathered himself up and stood, glaring after her. Serena took her skirts in hand and followed up the stairs. She turned to give her stepbrother one last glance. At the sight of his anger, she set her jaw and turned up her chin. "You may speak with him when he wakes," she told him.

Chuck turned to the remaining servant. "Bring me my horse." He took his coat from the hanger and pulled it on, then ran out into the street in the rain. When the stallion was brought around, he placed a foot onto the stirrup and pulled himself up.

Intent on his mission and unwilling to wait, he kicked the horse's side and blazed his way out of London, towards the very road that the carriage had taken.

_Remember this_, she had whispered to him. It had only been mere hours since she left him, hours since they had taken these very roads. _Remember this. _The rain blinded his eyes, not tears, he told himself. There was no reason for tears. At the end of this road, she would be warm and safe in front of the roaring fire in his grand country home.

_You will never escape me_, she had told him.

He did not sail across the channel, almost lose his life, and completely give his entire heart only to close the book like this.

This was not how it was going to end.

"You will never escape me, Blair," he vowed, as he rode hard into the night.

Five hours out of London, it was the same words he chanted over and over in his head. The refrain was tiresome, but he held on so fast and so tightly, because letting go, missing a beat, would be a concession. Even as he stood at the edge of the cliff, where the carriage tracks ended, the words were an unending chorus.

He stared down the rocky edge, into the white foamy water that crashed and slammed and exploded against the rocks. Chuck swallowed. With his limbs heavy, he tossed his leg over the saddle and cantered back towards from where he came.

~o~o~o~o~o~

He opened the door to Daniel's room. The moment he stepped inside, his senses reeled at the odor of medicines and disinfectant. The secretary lay pale in the center of the bed. Chuck removed his gloves and walked over to stand beside Daniel's form.

"Wake up," he commanded curtly, grateful that his stepsister was not there to police him.

Daniel's face was still damp, his hands clammy when he opened his eyes to see the hazy figure of the marquis looming over him. "My lord," he whispered.

Chuck set his jaw and folded his arms across his chest. "It's been two weeks, Mr Humphrey. You have had enough rest. What has happened to my wife?"

At that, the secretary struggled to sit up, then hissed at the pain and fell back against the pillows. "Two weeks?" he gasped. "My lord, she has been abducted by her stepbrother."

Chuck bared his teeth. "Aaron Rose?"

Daniel nodded. "Five hundred thousand."

Chuck took a deep breath, then walked over to the armchair to the side of the bed. He was certain that Aaron Rose did not need five hundred thousand, and the abduction was nothing but revenge. He settled into the seat and stared at the far off wall. "You must recover, Humphrey. We will search for her."

A soft knock, and Serena stepped into the room. She was surprised to see Chuck sitting there. Her eyes immediately flew to Daniel, who nodded and waved her inside.

"How are you?" she asked softly.

Daniel gave her a tight smile. "I will be up and about very soon, to assist the marquis in the search for his wife."

Serena frowned. "Search? But the carriage—"

"Search," Chuck interrupted.

The blonde placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Her grace would like your presence at dinner tonight, Chuck. It would be good for you to come."

Chuck turned cold eyes at her. "To dine with my father?" he spat.

"Yes!" Serena exclaimed. "To dine with your father, and my mother, and me. We care about you, Chuck. You have to realize there are people other than you who are affected by all this," Serena cried out. And then she knelt in front of him and took his hand in hers. "Please, Chuck. Please come. I cannot watch you vanish into thin air, all alone."

Chuck gave a small nod. "Go."

He almost did not come. When he thought of it, the more reason there was for him to stay within his own four walls. But the silence was deafening in its utter loudness. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and could almost imagine what his thick dark hair would look like with silver streaking through. When he was old and graying, would he still be in this position, dressing up in his fine clothes and getting ready for a night in another man's family home?

Slowly, he descended the steps. He noticed his butler standing at the bottom step with his coat and his hat.

"Is the carriage ready?" Chuck's voice rumbled.

"Yes, my lord," replied the man, handing the items to his employer.

And then he heard the haunting music from the salon. Chuck's heart caught in his throat. He glowered at the butler, because everyone in the house knew never to touch the piano. The butler appeared unfazed, as if he heard nothing. Chuck shook his head, then strode towards the salon. He pushed the doors open.

And there she sat, with her back to him, her fingers flowing over the keys as the chords rose from her hands as if visible, tangible. He wanted to say her name, but he did not, so afraid was he to disturb the tentative peace. He walked over to the piano and laid his palm flat on top of it, and he felt the vibrations of the song to his core.

"Where have you been?" he finally sighed.

The fingers stopped. She looked up. And then, she reached up a hand towards him. As if she had cast a spell, he leaned forward and laid his cheek against her hand. "How could I leave?" she responded with her own question and a smile.

And it was all he wanted to hear. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in relief. And then he opened his eyes, and the light vanished. He stood inside the dim room, holding on to the piano. The keys were still covered, and the seat was tucked underneath the instrument, unused, untouched.

The doors of the salon opened. "My lord?"

"I will be right there," Chuck said.

He slid on his coat and strode quickly towards the exit.

~o~o~o~o~o

Walking into the duke's townhouse was eerily unsettling. His memories of the place were discomforting at best. It was in those halls that he had carried his wife through when his father revealed his role in Harold Waldorf's death. It was also in those rooms that Blair had overheard the fact, and ran into the arms of the man Chuck had always feared could break their bond.

Yet it was not Nathaniel who finally severed his relationship with Blair. It was not his father who sent her away. In a move filled with panic and fear, Chuck had sent her to his faraway country home in hopes that she would not decide to leave.

He had done what he had told Nathaniel to do a long time ago, when he first learned that his best friend was about to marry his ten-year fiancé. Send her to the country and live your life as a bachelor, he had advised.

"Your grace," he greeted Lilly.

The older woman gave him a sad smile and a warm embrace. When she pulled away, Lilly reached down to smoothen her skirt. His gaze fell on the cloth, because it was the first that he had felt on his mother the same coarse material. The gown was dark brown, almost black. Lilly avoided the color at all costs, and so the image of the duchess in the drab garment was particularly noticeable.

He nodded at his father when the duke entered the dining area. "Why is it so dark?" he asked the duke.

Bartholomew shook his head, then gestured at one of the maids to draw back a curtain. When she did, Chuck saw the black ribbon hanging from the window. He gritted his teeth.

"Chuck, it is good that you came."

Serena van der Woodsen entered the room in her dark blue gown. He gave her a tight smile, and brought her hand up to kiss. Until he saw the black satin ribbon wrapped around her wrist. He dropped her hand as if burned.

"You are all in mourning," he said finally.

"Darling, it must be done. We need to show some respect. She was a part of the family," Lilly told him.

"She is alive," Chuck insisted. "I can pay the ransom ten times over."

Serena, in tears, told him, "It was weeks ago, and we have not heard a word since. You said it yourself, Chuck. The carriage had fallen into the water."

"No," Chuck said. "Until I see a body, she is alive."

The butler entered the room, then leaned towards the duke with a whisper. The duke nodded, then walked over to his son. With a hand on Chuck's arm, the duke led the way to the receiving area. Chuck hesitated at the sight of the constable.

"What have you found?" the duke asked.

The constable bowed to the duke, then extended a closed fist. "I reckon this be yers." He opened the gloved hand and revealed a muddy ring. "We've expanded the search area as requested, yer grace," the constable shared. "Found this on a body washed ashore. Wer mighty sorry."

With trembling fingers, Chuck reached for the ring and took it in his hands. Behind him, Serena choked out, "Is it hers?"

Chuck rubbed the ring against his pristine cravat, marring the cloth with the dark stain. He read the inscription, then clutched it against his chest.

_Promise me it will be like this forever,_ he heard in his ear.

Chuck stumbled out of the duke's townhouse and collapsed into his carriage. He closed his eyes, then leaned his forehead on the window. "Stop," he pleaded softly into the empty vehicle.

But phantom hands touched him, phantom lips brushed butterfly kisses on his nape. He closed his eyes and struggled to contain the tears. And then, phantom fingers wiped them away. He finally leaned back against the seat, then opened his eyes.

And there she was in front of him, smiling. He said, "You are driving me mad, my love."

She sighed, then pulled her hair over her shoulder. She then looked down at her stomach and placed a hand over the swell. With a trembling hand, he covered hers. He felt the fluttering wings inside and knew it was his child. She then released his hand and asked, "Do you wish for me to leave you alone then?"

And it would have been best to say yes, to let go, to mourn the way his parents urged. "Never leave me," he told her.

When the carriage stopped in front of his own townhouse, Chuck jumped off the carriage and turned back to help her. He found the carriage empty. And then, his butler opened the door. Music wafted to his ears, coming from the dark, empty salon. Exhausted, he climbed the stairs and walked into his room.

And there she was, sleeping in his bed. He took a deep breath, discarding his clothes on his way. He settled into the bed, under the covers. And then he felt her curl against his body for warmth. He saw his reflection in the mirror, all alone, huddled in the bed with red-rimmed eyes. He turned his head to see her brown one pillowed on his arm. He placed a kiss into her hair.

"You have to keep your promise," he told her. "Forever. I will never let go."

If this were illusion, he would never want to wake.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Her fingers flew over the keys, producing a haunting melody that even she could not recognize. Beside her sat her young charge, watching in awe.

The young girl clapped her hands at the end, then turned. "What is that song?"

Lord Marcus Beaton chuckled. "Forgive her. I fear she has not had much education in English literature or the arts. Emma, do you not think it is time we sent your teacher for some rest?"

Emma sighed, then smiled. "Of course, uncle." She stood, then gave her teacher a hug. "Goodnight." And the girl reached down to place a hand over stomach. "Be good, baby."

They watched as Emma left the room, and smiled when they heard the scampering footsteps as the fifteen year old ran to her room. "So what do you think?" he said softly, his eyes shining at her.

"She is a beautiful child."

"But completely unruly. We only have a couple of years to turn her into a debutante," Marcus told her.

She shook her head. "Why would you even want me? You can take your pick from many governesses eager to work for an earl's household."

He walked over to her, then sat beside her. He placed his fingers on the keys and played the last notes of the song she had played for Emma. "It is a song written by a poet laureate. It's called Song to Celia," he offered. And then he glanced at her with a smile on his face. "Titles and names such as those may have been forgotten, but the music cannot," he told her. "If you can play it, you can feel it. That is all that matters, Beatrice."

tbc

AN: Let me know what you think. Everyone else already has a plot, but I am delayed by Vanessa. It seems I have written her out. Never fear, I shall go and find something for her. Lol.


	21. Chapter 21

AN: Apologies for the delay. This has been ready for hours but was down from my side.

Part 21

Six months went by, as if a long sleep overcame him and when he woke, half of the year had passed unannounced. Six months had gone by and he was locked in a stupor of the alcohol that ensured that he would be in a constant state of numbness. Only in that numbness could he survive. Give him bouts of sobriety and he found himself supine in his bed, more useless than if he were floating alone in his scotch-enhanced dream world.

He started drinking when he woke up one day and found her gone. Beside him on the bed, where she was supposed to be, lay the ring he had offered her in Florence, the ring that had been returned to him when he fervently hoped it would be her. One night, he had slept, with the phantom figure of his dead wife in his arms.

And he had sworn, like he always did, that he would hold onto her forever.

Even, he told her for the first time, if she was truly gone.

As if the admission was his concession to the fact, Blair had stirred in his arms and raised her face to look at him with sad understanding and a measure of acceptance. "I will sorely miss you, my love," she told him, and then kissed his lips until he drifted off to sleep.

The morning after, she was gone.

Wordlessly, it seemed that she had broken her promise of forever and decided to leave him be, at peace with a life he did not want. The bottle was retaliation. He fed the poison to his body as if he believed that if he consumed enough, he could push his body to the brink of death and she would return to pull him back to the life she so willingly abandoned.

Six months later, and still there was no word, no visit, no sign from her. And so there he sat now, in his study, with his head thrown back and his eyes closed in near delirium. His parted lips moved as he breathed, "Come now, my love. Come and yell. Come and blame me for what I have become."

He waited from noon to dark it seemed, in vain.

And then one person did come, one he did not expect, one he had not laid eyes on since the wedding.

"Is this what you have become?"

And because he was not Blair, he was unwelcome. Chuck opened his eyes and squinted so that his poor vision could focus enough at the figure in front of him. "Nathaniel," he said in disgust. "Leave me be."

"And that is exactly what everyone else has done, in hopes you would rise from your stupor. But that is not what is happening," he told her. "I have stood by long enough."

Chuck sat up in his chair and glared at his friend. "What are you doing?" he asked softly, his voice threatening. "Are you not afraid of me? I have sent away my wife because of you."

Nathaniel grinned, and it offended Chuck. "Who should be afraid of a drunkard such as you?" he parried. "You sent her away for reasons less logical than her attachment to me," Nathaniel pointed out. "And if you were truly mad with me… Well, you will be unable to hit me even if you tried." And then Nathaniel snorted. "As if you could even stand."

Chuck grasped the arms of his chair and pulled himself up, then found it so dizzying he was forced to sit and think of another way to hurt the man. "She loved me."

"You are right," Nathaniel offered.

It was impossible, because Nathaniel should have denied it. Chuck did not know how to respond to the tactic Nathaniel utilized now. "Not you," Chuck emphasized.

"Tis true," said Nathaniel.

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "Damn you."

"And you as well."

"What the hell do you want?" Chuck spat, tired and exasperated with Nathaniel's strategy.

"Your father may have chosen to leave you alone. And your sister is knee-deep in her own affairs." Nathaniel offered another grim smile. "But I have time in my hands and who better to waste it on than my wasted friend? I am off to White's, and I am here to take you along."

Chuck snorted at what he chose to perceive as an insult. "I have an open invitation to White's. I do not need you to get me in." In fact, he had an invitation to both the prominent gentlemen's clubs in London—White's and Brooke's. "I choose not to come."

"Exactly the point." Nathaniel walked over to his friend, then grasped his arm. Chuck glared at him when Nathaniel pulled him up and motioned to Chuck's valet to assist. "You are going to take a much needed bath. You stink of scotch and your own odors."

"You need not sniff after me," Chuck yelled after Nathaniel.

It was no small measure of success for Nathaniel when Chuck managed to walk into the club unassisted. At their entrance, a hush fell over the group of men. It was, after all, Chuck's first outing after his wedding, and all the unfortunate circumstances that followed. But men were men, and Nathaniel sighed in relief when everyone turned back to their own affairs after their initial shock.

To his surprise, his friend started to talk, "Did I tell you about gentlemen's clubs in Paris, Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel nodded towards Lord Denver and Baron Easton, who were playing cards with Mr Baizen. He was not going to join that group any time soon. Mr Baizen had taken five hundred pounds from him the last game they played. "Tell me it is nothing like ours."

"Clubs were sophisticated genteel pubs with a stage for performance." Chuck gave a soft smile at the memory. "That is where I first saw her."

"A gentleman's club?" Nathaniel prompted, willing his friend to continue. Everyone had always said it was best to talk. If Serena were to be believed, Chuck refused to speak of Blair to anyone, even his stepmother.

"First time ever I saw her, the marchioness of Hartington was dancing on the stage of a gentlemen's club named The Black Flower," Chuck narrated fondly. "Even then I knew she was no ordinary dancer. She teased us with that wretched satin ribbon." He turned to his friend. "I was so intrigued that I hurried after her." He gave a soft laugh. "She kissed me that night."

"Right," Nathaniel commented blandly. "Right on the first night in Paris, when you were supposed to be looking for my bride."

Chuck sighed, then said the words that were long due, the admission that took so long despite recognizing that Nathaniel probably knew. "I was in love with Blair, and I am sorry."

Nathaniel grasped Chuck's arm. "You have never said that before," he told Chuck with a small smile. "About anyone."

"It was time," Chuck managed.

He excused himself to mill about. It was what Nathaniel wanted when he brought his friend over. It was time to end the self-imposed exile and live in the world, in the now. Chuck made his way towards the infamous betting book of White's. He had plenty to spare, and a scandalous wager might just be the thing to amuse him. He leafed through the pages and scoured the titillating bets patterned after gossip and news and speculation.

Lord Hardwick, for example, bet Mr Sheffield a hundred pounds that mutton prices would double by the end of the month.

Ridiculous.

Chuck read the next.

Mr Kittredge wagered a hundred pounds that Nathaniel and Serena would break of their engagement by the end of the week. Oddly enough, there were no takers. It was almost as if everyone believed it was a certainty, not worth a wager at all.

He turned the page.

Lord G wagered Lord T that Carter Baizen was going to be held up shotgun in a wedding in three months.

Chuck snickered. Someone knew something Mr Baizen did not.

The next page wiped the mirth off his face.

Lord Matthews proposed a wager to any taker, on when the widower marquis of H would take a new bride. A notation at the bottom indicated he would double the stakes if anyone could guess where the new one would come from. Apparently, Lord Matthews believed that Lord Hartington would return to Paris in order to snag another Frenchwoman.

Chuck closed the book, then strode towards where Lord Matthews was smoking his cigar with a couple of his business associates. Nathaniel's eyes widened when he saw the look on his friend's face. Chuck grabbed Lord Matthews by his cravat, then pulled him to his feet. Chuck threw the first punch to the man's jaw.

Chuck jabbed his finger onto the man's chest. "You do not involve my wife in anything ever again!" he warned.

"What is the problem, Hartington?" Matthews yelled back. "It was only for fun. Fun never hurt anyone."

A stranger, one gentleman they were both unfamiliar with, pulled apart the two. "There now," the man murmured. "Leave it. Be the better man," he urged Chuck.

Nathaniel pulled Chuck away from the scene, but Chuck lashed back. "If I see or hear you refer to her again, I will roast your balls over my fireplace while you are still attached to the measly little things that you would pray for them to fall off instead."

"You are insane, Hartington!" Matthews returned. "You've done your share of wagers in those books." Then he looked at Nathaniel, "Your friend obviously is not yet prepared to join the real world, Archibald. Take him back home."

The men in the club successfully tore the angry men apart. Nathaniel sat Chuck down and handed him a glass of water. The stranger who had assisted them sat down in front of Chuck, then extended his hand. "Marcus Beaton."

"Earl of Pembroke?" Nathaniel asked.

Marcus appeared confused, and then his face cleared and he nodded. "Yes, yes. Forgive me. I am still unused to the title. I was raised a second son."

"Right," Nathaniel remembered. "Your brother died and left you with the title."

"And a lovely niece," Marcus added.

Chuck whispered. "I am sorry for your loss." He clenched and unclenched his fist.

Marcus nodded in appreciation. "And I for yours."

"Listen, Marcus," Nathaniel began. "You seem like a fine man, and I would like to invite you to a small gathering in my home. It would be an honor to have you join us."

Marcus rose and laughed, pleased. However, he shook his head. "As much as I would love to, this is a day's visit to London. I live in the country."

Chuck frowned. "Why would you choose to live there?"

"You will be surprised at how beautiful it is, especially at sunset. Your estate borders mine," he realized. "Have you not noticed?"

"I have not been to Hartington in a year," Chuck told their new friend. He had no plans to visit Hartington either. There was no way he could look at the home that she was supposed to live in, and register that she was nowhere close. If he went there, he would create a new world in his head, one where they raised a beautiful, young family in the country. The dissolution of his fantasies the first time almost broke him. He could not risk another collapse.

"Well I have only come to London to purchase a piece of antique furniture I had set my heart on during my last visit," Marcus told them. "Now I have it in my possession, and I must hurry home." He looked thoughtful. "Why don't the two of you come for a visit? I am certain the ladies in my house would love to meet people other than me or the servants."

"I have plans of leaving for Tuscany," Chuck said, belatedly recognizing that he would do the exact same thing in Tuscany. Only this time, it would be more real. She would be more alive. And he could more clearly imagine every one of the phantom scenes that he would smell and touch and feel her everywhere.

Nathaniel sighed, then shook his head. "A trip to the country would do you good, Chuck." When his friend seemed uncertain, he excused them from Marcus and pulled Chuck aside. "There is no need to replace your townhouse with your villa, and be imprisoned all the same."

~o~o~o~o~o~

"You will be glad you decided to come!" Marcus yelled above the hooves as they pulled up the driveway to his country home.

Chuck grunted unconvinced, and Nathaniel nodded. The three men jumped off their horses and dusted off. Chuck looked up when at once, the door opened and out ran a slip of a girl.

"Uncle!" the girl squealed.

"Emma!" Marcus greeted. Emma raced down the steps and barreled into Marcus. "I am dirty and I will ruin your pretty dress," he told his niece.

"We missed you, uncle," Emma sighed, and then coughed when she breathed the dust.

"I told you so," Marcus said to his niece. He then turned to his companions.

"My lords, this is my lovely niece Lady Emma Beaton. She is all of fifteen years old, and will be debuting in London very soon. Emma, this is the marquis of Hartington, Lord Charles Bass." He then turned to Nathaniel. "And this is Lord Nathaniel Archibald."

Emma extended her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," Nathaniel replied warmly. He appeared confused at the proffered hand, yet still took it and shook.

"Your teacher will be unimpressed," Marcus reminded her. Emma rolled her eyes, then gave a small curtsy. "Well done, darling," Marcus lauded his niece.

He turned to the two gentlemen he had brought from London. "My lords, you are welcome to my humble home."

He gestured to the driver of the carriage. The furniture that Marcus had spoken so highly about was lifted down from where it was strapped to the roof of the accompanying carriage and then brought up the steps. They entered the house after the mysterious piece.

"Is it our gift for Beatrice?" Emma bubbled with excitement.

"Indeed."

Emma turned to the new arrivals. "Have you seen it, my lords? Is it as splendid as my uncle says it is?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "Who is Beatrice?"

"Emma's music teacher," Marcus answered. "And the very reason I had to hurry home."

As if on queue, they heard a feminine voice coming from down the corridor. "Emma?"

The voice was unmistakable. Did he not, after all, spend most of his nights whipping her up from imagination? Chuck looked down at the floor in an effort to hide his expression. It would not do to react so violently, only because of a certain similarity to someone long gone.

"Blair," Chuck said under his breath.

For his part, Nathaniel's gaze slammed to his friend. Chuck slowly raised his head to look. It was as if his lungs were caught in a vise grip he could not escape. He could not see her because then his vision swam with tears. He saw the figure, faint and unrecognizable by sight, but his heart had stopped beating and he welcomed the sweet merciful hands of death.

"Who is that?" he whispered through lips suddenly to dry. Chuck swallowed, and even his deepest breaths could not sustain him. Chuck waited for a moment, to see that spark of recognition, to feel her arms around him when she did and she embraced him. Something inside, long dead, flickered with cold hope.

"My lords, this is Emma's music teacher."

"Beatrice," she provided. "And you have all stolen my pupil from me, just when she was starting to learn our new song."

Emma gave Marcus a proud grin. "Just you wait, uncle. I will play it for you yet." And then to Chuck's utter fascination, the fifteen-year-old twirled about with Lord Marcus guiding her hand. Softly, Emma sang, "The thirst that from the soul doth rise, doth ask a drink divine. But might I of Jove's nectar cup—" Emma stammered, then raised panicked eyes towards her teacher. "But might I of Jove's nectar cup," she repeated.

Beatrice smiled in encouragement, and then finished softly for her, "I will not change for thine."

Chuck's heart thundered in his ears. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came.

"Are you well, my lord?" Beatrice asked softly, stunning him by how easily she said it, as if there was no recognition of a man she had lain with, promised her life to.

Chuck hastily brought up his handkerchief to his eyes. His throat itched to cry out that she was his, and he ached to encase her in his arms. "Dust from the road," he rasped. And then, when he put down the cloth, he could see her clearly, the same wonderful phantom that had haunted him and stopped. And there she stood, full of his child, her eyes smiling down at him. Her lovely deep brown hair was gathered at her nape in a modest chignon, and she was dressed in a simple house dress that could not compare to the humblest gown that Chuck had purchased for her. Yet he could not remember seeing her more beautiful than this. For a moment he wondered if in truth, he had died on the way, and this was the gate to heaven. "Beatrice?"

He stiffened when Marcus walked over to her and placed a kiss on her hand. "Go ahead," he told her, gesturing towards the furniture. "Unwrap it," Marcus urged. "It is my gift for you."

Chuck watched quietly as his Blair—and he would think of her no other way—assessed the covered gift. And then a servant handed her a pair of scissors. She cut the ties, and the cloth fell open to reveal a beautifully handcrafted crib. Her fingers traced the carvings on the wood. She raised teary eyes at Marcus. "My lord, it is breathtaking."

He had straightened at the sight of the gift. No one else should have the right to give something so personal for his child. He made his way to the wall, to stand beside his friend and lean against the white frame. A gust of wind could topple him.

"Beatrice is a lovely name," Chuck managed.

Blair gave him a faint smile. "Lord Marcus adores the works of Master Shakespeare, and he loves the independent woman, the quick-thinker and the sharp-tongued lady that Beatrice was."

"I am liberated," Marcus claimed.

Emma huffed, and Blair chuckled. "You are indeed, my lord."

It was Nathaniel who next spoke. "Lord Marcus chose the name? I do not understand." Chuck noted the tremulous breaths that Nathaniel took, and feared he would say anything that would arouse suspicion.

Marcus was unsuspecting still, and Chuck was glad. "It is a long and complicated story. We would regale you of it over supper." He walked over to Blair and asked, "How are you?"

Her breath hitched, and she turned to glance at Chuck uncomfortably before turning back to the earl. "The day draws near," she told him.

"And the dreams?"

Her voice dropped, and she turned her back on Chuck. "They haunt me still."

"Of course." Marcus nodded. "Emma, your teacher must rest before supper. Will you walk with her?"

With another puzzled look towards Chuck, the teacher made her way towards the steps. "Beatrice!" Chuck called. Blair stopped her ascent, then turned her head slightly, hiding her face yet showing that she was listening. It was the same exact angle she had when she realized he was behind her as she played the piano in her angel costume. "I wish to speak with the woman that Lord Marcus deems so strong to name her that."

"Perhaps later, my lord."

"Good. And then perhaps I would tell you about my vision of Beatrice."

Curiously, she turned around. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, and she did not know why. "What is your vision, my lord?"

And he looked at her, sorely tempted to tell her so he could take her back home where she deserved to be. "I think of Beatriće Portinari," he declared, waiting for a reaction.

"Dante's Beatri

e?" Marcus clarified. "Of Florence?" Blair gasped and stared at Marcus with parted lips. "Why ever would you think that, Lord Charles?"

When Blair turned to Chuck with furrowed brows, Chuck nodded. "I will be happy to tell you all about my Beatriće when you are rested, my lady."

And then she was gone. Chuck leaned his head back against the wall and took deep breaths. His knees trembled, and he feared that he would stumble.

"You are exhausted," Marcus observed of the two. "Let me show you to your rooms." He led the way up the steps.

tbc


	22. Chapter 22

Part 22

She wept, like a lovely golden angel, and he could not be moved. Daniel Humphrey set his jaw and looked down at the woman he had long vied for, loved for years, and he could not be moved by her tears. It was the first sign he took that it needed to be over, and soon.

"Marry him," he urged her.

"You know that I cannot," she cried. "I love you."

He shook his head, then glanced towards the rickety chair where he had left his crutches. Daniel pulled himself up, with his arms straining, and reached for the crutches. As if someone had twisted a key in a crafty little toy, she sprung to her feet and handed him the wooden equipment. "No!" he said firmly, then with one hand held her away. His other arm, his only support now, trembled, but he managed to limp towards the crutches.

"Do not push me away," she said softly.

"I do not need you now."

"I can help you, Daniel."

He bared his teeth. "And I cannot help you. I cannot give you what you need." Half a year ago, he had been so full of hope. The new job as Lady Blair's solicitor would have set him for life, brought him that much closer to supporting Serena van der Woodsen—not nearly to the life she was accustomed to, but nearly enough that he would not be shamed by the knowledge that she would be forced to live far below her standards. Now, six months to the day he was left bleeding on the side of the road, he was nothing.

"What I need is you," she said firmly, as she had said a million times over.

He blamed Aaron Rose, for his fall into obsession so great he was willing to shoot a defenseless man.

He blamed Lord Charles, for sinking into a depression so deep that he had forgotten about the man he had trusted more than anyone else.

He blamed Lady Blair, because she died.

He blamed himself, for not mending enough to lose the pain and return to work, not mending enough to fix the guilt that burdened him still.

"I am willing to love you, but not if you will continue like this."

Most of all, he blamed the detestable Serena van der Woodsen for staying, for pleading, for loving. No one should love him now. She was making it harder to do right.

"When you go to bed tonight, you will regret this, Daniel. And then you know where to find me," she sobbed. In a flurry of expensive material he would never afford, she fled away from the table, through the pub, amidst hollers and hoots from the silly patrons. He did not even have the strength to call out the men who reached out with grubby fingers to catch a brush of her hair.

"Keep your dirty hands to yourself!" snapped the waitress. She glared at the leering men, then nodded at Serena. She watched until she made her way out the door, and then she turned back towards Daniel. Outside the pub, she was on her own. Vanessa could not protect her there. Her own choice for coming to a place like this.

She made her way to Daniel with a piece of bread, then tossed it in front of him, making the metal plate clatter against the table. With Serena gone, there was no need to stand and leave. He fell heavily back onto the wooden stool.

"Let that soak the beer. You haven't eaten since you sat there four hours ago."

Daniel did not answer. Instead, he picked up the piece of bread and bit into it.

"This is no place for a lady like that," she lectured him. "You should not let her come back."

"Tell her that," Daniel said quietly. "Told her over and over but she is too stubborn."

Vanessa shook her head. "Maybe she should marry Nathaniel. Then you will come here every night and grieve. That would be just what you deserve."

Daniel bit into the bread and chomped on it. "And what of you?" he demanded. "Are you so willing to give up your fine lord?"

"There is nothing to give up," Vanessa pointed out. "I am a nonentity. Unlike Miss Serena, who lays it all out for you this way, Lord Nathaniel has done nothing to tell me anything apart from that he appreciates my bosom," she told Daniel. She seemed amused when he flushed. "You are not an innocent, Daniel. Neither is Lord Nathaniel."

~o~o~o~o~o~

Chuck watched her take a sip of water, watched as her throat worked to swallow. Nathaniel's gaze was intent on him, he knew. Still, he could not take his eyes away from her. A half a year, and God, how she changed. Her cheeks were full, and he knew at that she was cared for. She seemed to glow in health on this last month that she carried the child. For that, he would be grateful to the earl.

"Do not hope," Nathaniel had told him as they made their way to the dining hall. "I have heard of this before, and they recover nothing of their old lives."

"I can make her remember."

"And if you force it, the more you will trouble her."

And Chuck had agreed with him then. Yet the more he thought of it, of the strange incident that brought him here, the more he could wonder, why not hope? And it was hope that flared in his chest when he entered the dining hall to find her sitting there, right beside Emma. Lord Marcus and his ward smiled at him in welcome, and Beatrice—his Blair—seemed as puzzled as she had been before she made her way to her rooms that afternoon.

They had arrived and happened upon that statement from the earl, in which he said, "I remember reading of her in the university. It was a sad tale, and I wonder why he thought of it. Perhaps because it was such a popular read."

"My lord," greeted Emma, with that sweet face that Chuck knew would break the hearts of the men of the ton, in time. "We were speaking of the Beatrice you mentioned."

He nodded, and sat in his seat. Nathaniel followed suit. Chuck nodded, "Of course." And then he made to look at Blair and recited, "Ciò che m'incontra ne la mente, more, quand'i' vegno a veder voi, bella gioia; e quand'io vi son presso, i' sento Amore."

She shuddered, but met his eyes. "My lord—"

"You speak no Italian," he finished for her.

He started to translate it for her. Instead, it was Marcus he next heard when the earl said, "All I encounter in my mind dies when I come to gaze on you, sweet joy: and when I am near you, I feel Love."

But it was not to Marcus that she looked now. She had kept her sight on the marquis. Her lips curved. "How sublime," she whispered.

"Do not think it romantic," Marcus cautioned her. "La Vita Nuova is a tragic tale."

"Why so, uncle?" Emma asked.

"She was Dante Alighieri's ideal love, who died at age twenty-four. He wrote of her there and then immortalized her afterwards, as Dante's guide to heaven."

Nathaniel seemed displeased when he shook his head at his best friend. "Enough of such fiction," Nathaniel interrupted. He would speak to his friend of that later. He then turned to Lord Marcus and asked, "How is it that you have named her?"

And it was Blair who answered first, "Lord Marcus is my guardian angel."

Marcus smiled, then reached for her hand. "You are too kind." He turned to his companions. "It was naught but good fortune that I happened upon her and a vicious man who I had seen dragging her through the woods outside these very lands."

Emma nodded, wide-eyed. "He killed the bloody bastard!"

"Emma," Blair admonished.

"Sorry. But he did. Did you not, uncle?"

With a somber look, he nodded, "It had to be done, else Beatrice would have been—" he cut himself off, out of respect to his companion.

But Chuck had been there firsthand in Eleanor Rose's ball, had seen what Aaron was capable of. He ached to ask for the bastard's gravesite himself if only to unearth his rotting flesh and rip out his drying guts.

"And you remember all of this?" Chuck rasped, unable to bear the thought that she still remembered the horror, and knew only Marcus Beaton.

"Thankfully, my lord, I do not," was her answer, rife with finality.

"Nothing at all of your previous life?" Nathaniel pressed.

"Je suis Francais," she shared with a smile. "I remember Paris. I know this because I spoke the language more comfortably, before I settled into Anglais to converse with Lord Marcus, and Lady Emma."

Emma threw a look of admiration. "Is she not so good to switch so swiftly and so well?"

"Wonderful," Chuck murmured.

The first course was served, and Blair dipped her spoon into the soup. And then she said with a sigh. "And I have fond memories of Florence."

And with that, Chuck's gaze snapped back to her. Nathaniel cleared his throat.

"And so I find it odd that for an Englishman, you so easily latch onto the idea of an Italian Beatrice," she confessed.

"Is this all you remember then?"

"She has dreams," Emma intimated. "Nightmares. Or sometimes she plays something on the piano, and she remembers what song it is."

"The doctor speaks of a forgetfulness borne when something so horrific happens, and it wipes clean spaces of your mind," Lord Marcus shared. "We are hopeful she will remember more." Chuck looked at Blair, and his gut clenched at how she seemed to listen to Lord Marcus' every word now, as if they were gold. "And so I had sworn to her, after her child is born, I shall take her to Paris."

"With me," Emma added.

"Of course," Marcus agreed. "And it is a promise."

Chuck took a large drink of his wine.

Her voice was soft, and he almost did not hear. But it was she, and so his ears were trained to pick up the slightest sound. He still heard her breathing in his mind. "I do not like the word," she said.

"Which one?" Emma asked curiously.

"Promise," Chuck answered. When Blair looked at him in surprise, he amended, "I despise it too."

Blair nodded. "The doctor tells us it may help when I see Paris again. After all, when I played that song, it was as if I never forgot the notes, merely the name, and that once, a long time ago, a man had sung the words to me." She laid her hands on her large belly. "Perhaps—I hope—by the father of my child."

"I just pray it was not he that I had shot," Marcus muttered.

"No!" Chuck exclaimed. He sighed. "The father of your child could not possibly hurt you."

She held his gaze, and for a moment, he feared she would ask him to explain what he, a stranger from London, could possibly know of the father of her child. And he was prepared to respond, to tell her everything. It riled him that Lord Marcus Beaton, earl of Pembroke, savior that he was, could possibly think that he could take Charles Bass' wife to Paris.

"That is wonderful of you to say, my lord," she said.

He could not take his eyes off of her afterwards. Throughout the course of the dinner, he wanted to speak with her. But he felt his friend's watchful eyes and knew that Nathaniel was sincere in his words of caution. Despite all that had passed between them, he and Nathaniel had always emerged better bonded.

"I had only just dragged you out of your hell," Nathaniel muttered quietly. "Dive deep, thoughtlessly, and you will merely plunge yourself into the same disaster."

"What is it you expect?" Chuck whispered back. "She is in front of me, alive."

"For now, your wife is dead. Look at her eyes if you do not believe me."

Slowly, Chuck turned to watch her as she laughed, pleased at Emma's discourse. "I see my wife," he said thoughtfully.

Nathaniel shook his head, then returned to dinner.

It was after dinner that he received his request. He had lain awake that night, his head against the wall, pondering on the best way to approach her.

And then he heard so very softest of sounds, and again, he knew without pause that it was her. He sat up on the bed and padded out of the room. He registered idly that he was wearing a silk robe, and as he made her way to the next room and knocked, he thought of how it was the same way they had met in that hotel room long ago, a lifetime ago it seemed, when she had asked for his help to light her fireplace. Butterflies fluttered in his belly for the first time that night.

God, he wished she had the same memories that were teasing him now.

She was crying he realized when he listened. He swung the door open and peered inside, and saw her sleeping on her side, weeping in her sleep.

Chuck slipped inside the room and sat beside her on the bed. Gently, he shook her awake. Her eyes flew open and she sat up. At the sight of him, she clutched at his shoulders. And the sensation was so overwhelming that he closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. For a brief moment, he wrapped his arms around her and lulled himself into believing that she dreamed of him, and of their life together, and she remembered now.

"My lord," she gasped.

"Hush. You are fine," he assured her.

"It is the same nightmare over and over," she sniffled. As if she realized who it was and where they were, she flushed and pulled away. "I apologize."

"Nonsense," he said softly. "Tell me what it was," Chuck urged. "Speaking of it will help you remember. Let me help you remember."

She looked at him uncertainly, but he had such kind eyes. She took a deep breath. "I loved her so," she began. "I do not remember names, or faces, but I remember feelings. I loved her so."

"Who?" he prodded, puzzled, until he remembered who had gone with her.

"She stayed with me, because she loved me," she confessed. "And loving me had killed her."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his heart sinking to finally learn of what had happened to her loyal maid.

The tears flowed freely now, and his thumbs caressed her cheeks to dry them. She held her hand up to her chin, her fingers idly played where her ring had been. "I pressed my diamond into her palm," she remembered. "He was going to take me away. And so I gave my ring to her and begged her—" She closed her eyes tightly. "Tell him I love him, I pleaded. I feared death, and I wanted him to know." Her eyes opened, and she stared straight into his eyes. "If it were my dying day, I would that he knew."

His throat tightened. "He knew."

"And then he pulled me away, and I prayed he would let her go." She choked out a cry. "And then he shot at the horses' feet, and sent them over the edge." When she melted against him, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows. She buried her face in his robe, and burrowed at his side, in a place so familiar he almost wept. For the first time, he felt his child pressed against his body, and he could swear the baby knew him as it responded with a kick.

"Do you wish to sleep?" he asked, reluctant to leave, but keeping his head because if he did not leave, he would stay beside them forever.

"No," she whispered. "Keep me awake," she asked. "If I sleep, the nightmares will return."

Chuck glanced at the bedside table, and saw the book that now lay there facedown. He smiled. "I have intrigued you."

She raised her head, then saw the book he now held. "I know your secret," she confessed. And then she sat up and looked down at him. He held his breath. "My lord, I know why you are so kind, why you say those lines so beautifully."

"You do?" he breathed.

She took the book from him, and turned to an earmarked page. "E qual soffrisse di starla a vedere diverria nobil cosa, or si morria," she read to him.

He smiled. "You know Italian now?"

"There is translation," she informed him. "Any man who suffers to stay and see her becomes a noble soul, or else he dies." She paused, then said, "I know, my lord, how recently it was that you lost your wife. Forgive me. Lord Marcus spoke of it before you came to the table."

And it was thoroughly unexpected, so oddly it sat with him that she spoke of his dead wife, that he shut his eyes tightly. Only to feel her barest touch on his chest.

"You remember her when you read this?" she asked, yawning. "Did you turn into a noble soul?"

"And then when she was gone, I died," he admitted. He took the book from her. "Lie down. Let me read to you." He skipped the Italian, and went directly to the passage that he knew she had to hear, even as Beatrice, because he needed to tell her even as it fell on uncomprehending ears. "I came to a place not knowing where I was and it seemed to me I saw women, weeping, with disheveled hair, going through the street, in extreme sadness: and the sun seemed to me to be darkened, so that the stars showed themselves of a color such that I judged they were weeping: and it seemed to me that birds flying in the air fell dead, and there were massive tremors."

He glanced at her, and saw that she was half asleep. "And marveling in this fantasy," he continued, "and very fearful, I imagined that a friend came to me saying: 'Do you not know? Your miraculous lady has departed this world.'"

And then he sighed, and looked at her. She lay down, with her cloud of dark hair framing her face against the pristine pillows, like his own fallen angel. It reminded him so clearly that she was alive, even if at times, it seemed she was not.

For the longest moment, he could fool himself into believing that they were in their bed, back in London, and there was no time apart. Happily, they waited for their child, and she had fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

Yet even the longest moments ended. He padded across the floor softly so he would not wake her. Almost as if she felt him leave, she stirred in her sleep. And then, he heard her suck in a deep breath. She sat up, her eyes frantic. He rushed back beside her. "What is it?"

And now, she was weeping silently, unlike the sobbing she had done earlier. "Six months I had been fine, living with the horrid memories that visit me in my sleep. But now—"

"Was it a nightmare?" he asked, wishing once more that he could strangle Aaron Rose with his bare hands. "Did anyone hurt you?"

"It was the most awful nightmare, my lord. I was so happy."

His heart skipped a beat. "How can they be so awful then?"

She bent her head, and now her hair fell on either side of her face to cover her tears. "Because I cannot remember names or faces. They are so beautiful, but they leave me so empty."

He stood, needing to place a distance between them as much as possible, if only for this particular nightmare. "Tell me about it."

And with each statement, she killed him.

"The scent of candle wax was pungent, not unpleasant. It was familiar," she relayed. "It was cool, not cold. It was like sun trapped under marble and stone. But it streamed through magnificent windows, stain glass." She closed her eyes. "There were icons of the stations of the cross." And then she smiled tearfully. "And I married him," she recollected with her eyes closed. "Most of all, I remember giving up everything I was, all for another person. I remember how it felt."

"You remember all that?"

And then she opened her eyes and gave him a sad smile. "I wish I could forget," she told him softly. "If I cannot live that life, I wish I could forget it all."

tbc


	23. Chapter 23

Part 23

"I am coming with you!" Nathaniel called out as he rushed out of the house. He slid on his gloves and ran towards the carriage.

Marcus cocked his head. "Will you not stay with Lord Charles?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "It is best if I go to London with you, for Beatrice's nurse, now that her child is almost born."

"You have given me your recommendation, my lord, and I am sure to take it. This Vanessa, she lives at the address you provided?" Nathaniel nodded. "We shall bring her with us when we return in a few days, after our visit to Lady Beaton." Marcus glanced at his niece, who was then giving her teacher a hug. "Come along, Emma. We shall see you at the soonest, Beatrice.

Nathaniel nodded. "You will find no one better," he assured them. "But it is best that I speak with her, for we shall ask her to leave her whole life in London. And I can take her back here within a day, maybe two if there are pressing matters to settle."

"Alright then, my lord," Marcus agreed. "Come along."

Nathaniel turned to Chuck and extended his hand. When Chuck took it, Nathaniel pulled his friend towards him, then whispered into his ear, "Will you be fine by yourself?"

And Chuck nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.

"I trust you will still be whole when I return. Do not break your heart for something you cannot help," Nathaniel advised. And then he proceeded to the carriage, held the door open for Emma, and climbed in.

Chuck admitted to a slight guilt at the rush of pleasure that filled him at the sight of the departing carriage. Beside him, he noticed her shift on her feet and idly touch her distended stomach. And then, with one hand, she waved goodbye. There were rings under her eyes, and her lips appeared tight and dry.

He turned to her. "How are you feeling?"

She returned with a small smile. "I wish I could have gone. For Emma."

Chuck gave a curt nod. He had seen it in the way the girl appeared so enthusiastic about visiting her grandmother. It had been at times over the expected happiness, especially when Lord Marcus was taking her to his a gathering Lady Catherine Beaton was throwing to mark the first year of the last earl's passing. Emma's father would have been dead a year; Marcus would have been a year into the title he had never expected; Emma herself would have been an orphan for exactly twelve months. The giggles that seemed often too high or loud that Emma gave only served to tell him that the girl was on edge.

"She needs me now," she shared.

When she placed a hand on the small of her back and stretched, he took her by her arm. "She has her uncle," he assured her. "And you are too far along to take that far a trip. You should lie down."

"I have to move about so I do not become a beached whale," she told him. And then she cast an apologetic look at him. "I wish Lord Marcus had not put this burden on you—to stay with a pregnant woman while they all return to London."

He helped her back into the house. "I wanted to stay," he said firmly, leaving no question that it was in fact his preference.

"And Lord Nathaniel was too kind to volunteer the services of his friend to help me with the child."

"t was," Chuck admitted. "And I would be happy to help you any day," he told her.

At that, she turned to him and smiled shyly. "My lord, I have to say, and do not think me presumptuous."

"Never," he breathed.

She stopped, and turned to him. Tentatively, she reached her hand to touch his cheek, then hesitated. He closed his hand over her floating one, then pressed her palm against his cheek. She caught her breath. Her eyes fell on his lips as her parted. "I wish to say, my lord, that it does not matter that she perished so young. Your wife was likely the most fortunate woman the world has ever known."

The world stopped as those words floated to him. He breathed deeply through his nose, then bent to capture her lips. And it was like there had been music humming in the background, then suddenly just dropped dead silent.

Her hand lifted from his cheek then moved to hold onto his nape. His hands cupped her face as his open lips devoured hers. When he lifted his lips from hers, he looked down at her still closed eyes and moist, parted lips. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him. "My lord—"

He licked his lips, and she shuddered at the thought that he was tasting her on them.

"This is not right," she said softly, as if unconvinced.

"Did it not feel right?" he asked.

But she could not answer then, because for all the world, she had never known anything that felt so right. She shrugged away the kiss, as if she could forget, and knew she was lying. "But I do not know you, save for what Lord Marcus has told me."

Chuck determined her goal, and allowed her that once to escape. "That I had lost my wife?" he said quietly. She nodded. "Perhaps that it all you need to know. At times, it seems as if that is the only thing worth knowing about me."

"That cannot be true."

And so Chuck continued, but could not believe they were having this conversation here, in the corridor of the earl of Pembroke's home. Yet again, the devil that still existed inside him coaxed, it was better that it was here under the roof of the gentleman that he was certain would not think twice about taking his wife. "I had a family," he admitted, "until I learned of what my father had done that hurt my wife so. It had never been the same since then." She frowned. "I was a loyal friend until I fell in love with her."

"No," she said. "Your stories cannot all end with her. There is so much about you, I am certain, that did not involve her."

He gazed at her, as if perplexed. So much of his life since he had met her had been about Blair, and he searched his brain for a story. His father, murderer that he was, had it right. No person should ever give his all for another, because once that other left, you would be left without knowledge of who you were.

"Tell me a story that does not revolve around her. You speak Italian well. Tell me about your time in Italy," she suggested.

He almost found it humorous, if it were not tragic. "You do not wish to hear of Tuscany now, I fear," was his wry answer. At the look of disappointment on her face, he shared, "Back when I was a child, I asked my father to tell me about my mother. He sent me to my room. The next day I found out from my dear nanny that I was being sent to boarding school in Wales," he said quietly, emotionlessly. "And that was when I knew my father despised me, because mother died giving birth to me."

He could almost recognize Blair in the way her eyes flickered as he told her the story that Blair had never heard before. "Thank you, my lord, for sharing that. It could not have been easy."

"I swear my baby would be loved, and would have no reason to doubt my love," she vowed.

Chuck walked with her towards the staircase leading up to the rooms. She looked up at the winding stairs and sighed. And then he offered her his arm.

"My one regret," she admitted, "is that there will be no father to teach him, or to protect her."

He cleared his throat, and asked the question he had been clamoring to ask since finding her here. "And what of Lord Marcus Beaton?"

"He is a good man. He will do what he can, but it would never be the same as the love of your own flesh and blood."

And he knew it for a fact, because even now he would wonder just how much hatred it was that his father held against him. "So you ever wonder about the child's father, or desire to find him?"

They were halfway up the steps when she stopped, then smiled. And the sight of it made him smile as well. "If he were half the man I know from my dreams, my lord, I would search for him to the ends of the earth." Chuck was fascinated by the look on her face and knew even if she did not, that she was speaking so fondly of him. He felt like an intruder to be privy to this. "But I cannot go. And when our child is born, there is no way I can leave my baby to search for a man who may well have dropped off the face of the earth."

Her next answer mattered more than life, and so he held his breath to ask, "And if he found you, what would you do?"

"I am certain I will remember him. The way I dream of him, I know I will remember him," she said with conviction.

At that, like a being possessed, he gripped her arms and said, "Let me show you the Hartington house."

"It is close by, is it not?"

"Not an hour by carriage."

She held his gaze and she nodded, then laughed softly at the sheer joy of once again doing something outside the plan. "I do not know if I had ever been this impulsive."

Chuck remembered the exhilaration of their decision to leave Paris for Tuscany, of breaking all the rules, of changing plans. He ached to tell her all of it, to ask her to remember, but he did not. In the spirit of allowing himself to be natural and unbounded, he dropped a kiss on her hand. "I shall send word to prepare the house to receive guests."

By nightfall, Chuck and Blair traveled through the fields leading to the mansion that locals referred to as The Palace. He had once arrogantly listed his holdings to Lady Blair, when they were in France and were counting off the riches they would bring into a marriage. They had both been silly and shallow then, thinking of their worth based on property and allowance. Neither of them had recognized what would soon be true, and that they would commit their lives to one another without thought of wealth.

Yet still he could not help but puff up with pride and he helped her out of the carriage and presented the yawning mansion that stood so elegantly against the countryside. The London townhome was a pittance compared to this, his jewel. She gasped at the size and the finish. He took her hand and led her down the grassy path to the doorway.

"I had them prepare a bedroom on the first floor so you would not need to suffer through a flight of stairs."

This should have been how it was, had he come home with her after the wedding. He could have presented The Palace so ceremoniously that she would feel at home forever.

Having been announced early, he was expected with his companion. The door swung open and the Hartington estate butler welcomed them with kind eyes.

"Jeremiah," Chuck greeted.

"My lord," the butler said. And then he turned to Blair. "My lady."

Blair gasped at the marble flooring. She looked up and noted the banisters carved so elegantly. She glanced at every tabletop adorned with flowers. Hanging from the windows were lace curtains and chiffon trims.

"It is beautiful," she declared in amazement. And then she spied the small open box on the table. She looked down and saw a pearl necklace. Her eyes narrowed. It had a gold B clasp. She turned back to the marquis. "Was she to live here?" she asked softly.

Chuck's gaze had fallen on the necklace as well. He had all but forgotten the small trinket he had had sent to her to welcome her to Hartington. He walked over, his body pressed tightly against hers. Chuck picked up the necklace that she had never worn. "Yes," he confessed.

"No one ever told me her name." She touched the golden clasp, brushing her fingers against his.

He glanced up at her, then softly declared, "Blair."

"That is a beautiful name."

He unclasped the B and held up the necklace against her throat. "Please take it."

She sucked in her breath, then pushed his hands away. "I cannot replace her."

It was as if he found the idea preposterous, and it rang in his voice, "That is insane. You can never replace her."

Her lips parted, and he noticed the flicker of hurt. She turned away from him and turned towards the stairs. In her rush, she tripped and fell heavily on the second step. He stepped towards her and grasped her by the elbow. He helped her to her feet, but she gasped, then clutched at her stomach.

Chuck watched in horror as Blair's stomach contracted visibly under her dress. The pain caused her knees to buckle, and he caught her by her arms. She groaned, and sent a panicked look towards him. "Aaaaaah!"

He hooked his arm under her shoulders and he lifted her up in his arms. He felt warmth flood against his shirt and, despite having no knowledge of childbirth, recognized it for what it was. He turned to Jeremiah and commanded, "Get a doctor!" He glanced down and saw her dress soaked through with her water.

He carried her to the bedroom that she was meant to use, and deposited her at the center of the bed. At once she turned to her side and groaned at the pain. "We will get a doctor soon."

And then she was crying, in all honesty, afraid of what was to happen then. She reached out a hand and he grasped it, intertwined their fingers. Chuck told her, "I am here."

He felt her hand tighten around his and knew she was riding out the wave of pain. When her grip loosened, the door opened and in walked a maid, wringing her hands. "My lord, the doctor had gone to the other town. Here is Ethel. She is a midwife."

For hours he had waited through the waves of pain until they were bare minutes apart. The midwife sweated profusely as she looked after Blair. Chuck glanced towards the weary woman and said quietly, "What is it?" The woman seemed afraid to speak, and Chuck repeated. "What is it?" He reluctantly released Blair's hand, then walked towards the woman. By then, it seemed that Blair was too exhausted to complain about the loss of contact, and her hand fell limply onto the mattress.

"The baby is breech, my lord."

"What does that mean?" he hissed. Chuck glanced towards Blair, who now lay back on the bed with a ghastly pallor. "We need to birth the baby. She cannot take much more of this."

"The baby is sitting on his bum, trying to get out," the midwife told him. "We best turn the child else your lady'll bleed to 'er death."

He tensed his jaw. Chuck knelt beside Blair, until his face was level with hers. "She needs to turn the baby. And then it will all be fine," he said reassuringly.

She took shallow breaths. "I know that look," she said softly. "And I know you hate promises like I do. But promise me, if anything should happen, you will find my baby's father, whatever it takes. Promise me you will tell him to love the child. Do not allow the baby to think his father did not love her, if only for this," she said, referring to the labor and to whatever cost it took to birth the baby.

Chuck shook his head. He then looked at the midwife, then removed his coat. And then gently lifted Blair's shoulders off the bed, making her sit up. He slid behind her with his legs on either side of her. Her upper body fell exhaustedly against him, and her head rested against his shoulder.

"This will hurt, milady," the midwife warned, resting her hands on Blair's stomach.

"I am too weak for this," she said tearfully.

He took both of her hands in his and rested it against his knees. "Scream if it will help you. I am right behind you. Push against me if you will," he said into her ear. And then he met the midwife's eyes and nodded.

And then the midwife turned the child by pushing against her stomach. Blair's eyes flew open and she screamed at the ripping sensation inside her. The midwife pushed, turning the child around to that the baby would be in a proper birthing position. Chuck's jaw tightened at the sight of dark blood staining the sheets under her. She pushed at the bed with the balls of her feet, and encountered his unmoving form behind her providing bolster.

"Oh my God," she moaned.

"Push, lady!" the midwife commanded.

"Push, my love," he whispered into her ear.

She was slack against his body.

"Push!" cried the midwife. She looked up from between Blair's parted legs and up at Blair. She sent a look of panic towards Chuck.

Chuck placed his hands on Blair's stomach and said firmly, "Push. Push now."

"I cannot," she whispered tiredly.

"Just one more, and then you can sleep," he pleaded. "Please." He applied some pressure on her stomach and bore down with her. "Push."

And she took a deep breath, then sighed. And the child slid out of her body in a mess of bloody fluid. Blair fell back against Chuck's chest. He sighed in relief as the sight of the squirming mess. He slid out of the bed and held out his arms. The midwife hesitated, because she often needed to bathe the child before the lord would look. At Chuck's insistence, she handed the baby over.

He knelt down beside the bed, with the squirming, screaming child in his hands. She could barely keep her eyes open. He lifted the child so she could see her product. When he saw her eyes flicker from the child to his face, Chuck knew she would see the tears in his eyes, the awe. He kissed a still bloody baby, then, in another move so natural and unrehearsed, he kissed her mouth.

"It is a boy, a strong boy. Now rest."

Out of sheer exhaustion, she fell unconscious.

"Blair?" he said, slipping at that moment of panic. Chuck's heart stopped. He handed his son back to the midwife. He patted her cheek.

"Milord, let her rest. She is breathing fine, Lord Hartington. Tis weariness coupled by loss of blood from the breech. Best watch 'er through the night. Ye have a nurse?"

"One is coming," he answered.

"Someone has ta stay with'em tonight."

Chuck took his child from the midwife's arms and waved in the warm water brought for the child's first bath. "I shall stay with them through the night."

tbc


	24. Chapter 24

AN: One callout for this part. The Marcus and Emma portion here was inspired as a response to delphin4ik's comment.

Part 24

Vanessa had fallen asleep inside the hackney after her long day working. Nathaniel looked down at her when they arrived at the Pembroke country home the next morning. She appeared exhausted, and it could not be comfortable sleeping inside a moving hackney. The hackney finally stopped at the gate, and Nathaniel shook Vanessa awake.

"Good morning," he greeted with her smile.

She blinked up at him, then flushed when she realized she had been sleeping on his shoulder. Her hand flew to her mouth as she consciously checked for moisture, which tended to seep when she was tired. The day before had been stressful at the pub, and it did not help that she had stayed up the whole night before fixing the leak on her ceiling.

"We are at Pembroke manor," he announced. "Thank you for coming."

Vanessa's flush turned a deeper red, and she wondered how it was that Nathaniel still seemed to have no clue of her feelings when she blushed so readily with him. "If this is what you want me to do my lord, I will do it."

She allowed Nathaniel to help him out of the hackney, and released all her breath when he held her by her arms as he lifted her out. For a brief moment, he held her close to his chest. She saw the flicker in his eyes, and took the chance that she had repeatedly urged Daniel to do. If she could encourage others, then it would be best if she took her own advice.

She took a deep breath for courage, then laid her lips on his for a swift kiss. He responded, and for those moments, it was heaven. And then as swiftly as it started, he ended the kiss.

"Vanessa," he said, his brows furrowed. "I am engaged."

"To Miss van der Woodsen," Vanessa provided. "I know this, but I know other things as well."

"I cannot begin anything with you."

She stepped back and declared her frustration. "You take me here and tell me to trust you. What is it you want from me? For once in your life Nathaniel, be honest. I come running to you every time. I do not understand what you want."

"I thought it was clear," Nathaniel argued. "I did tell you, so I am certain you could not have misunderstood. I need you to take care of Lady Blair, like you did me."

Vanessa set her jaw, her eyes now brimming with tears at his rejection. "Fine. Take me to Lady Blair. All the world revolves around her, why not I as well."

"Vanessa, you and I—"

She held up her hand. "From your stabbing, to Lord Charles' betrayal, even to Daniel Humphrey's bum leg—all because of this woman I have always heard of but have never seen. And now here I am, in the country, to be a nursemaid when I had no real desire to."

"I asked if you wanted to help, and you agreed." She closed her eyes and turned her face away.

I know. "Wait," he said. "Did you think this meant more?"

"I do not know what to think," she said curtly.

He grabbed her arm, and she was quite certain he had never grabbed the arm of Lady Blair, or Miss van der Woodsen. "Vanessa, you could not have thought it. My world…"

"Stop throwing that in my face," she hissed. "When you were in my home recuperating, how you freely looked at my body as if I had no right to shame." He started to protest, but she interrupted him. "I saw you. And when you took me with you, it was to a mistress' townhouse that we went to. All those balls that Daniel Humphrey could attend, I had never been. Always you slap me with reminders of how I am not from your world, and I am tired of it."

Nathaniel watched as she crumbled in front of him. She had saved his life, and all along, he had set her aside and ignored any sign of hope from her. And now, seeing her weep for the first time, his heart went out to her.

"I have never thought you beneath me," Nathaniel told her.

"A girl cannot help but think, my lord," she sobbed. "You have taken me from London to be your former fiance's maid," she spat the word, "and I say yes. I say yes every time that it has now turned pathetic." She looked up at him with her teary eyes. "Next you would ask me to hem Miss van der Woodsen's bridal gown and still I would say yes, because it was you that asked."

He laid his palm on her cheek. "Vanessa, I had no idea."

"I swear, Lord Nathaniel, you are slow in the head at times," she said laughingly through her tears.

"I do not care about the money," he told her. "But my parents, Vanessa, are not used to a life of poverty. I cannot abandon their happiness." Even to his ears, she supposed that his words sounded hollow.

"You keep watching for their joy, but who is watching after yours?" she asked.

Nathaniel took her hand and pulled her back towards the hackney. "Come."

"Where are we going?" she gasped breathlessly as they broke into a run.

"Gretna Green!" he exclaimed.

Her eyes widened, and her feet picked up. "Wait. What about Lady Blair?" she yelled into the wind, concerned, yet happy to be fleeing.

Nathaniel smirked, then flagged the hired hackney back. He lifted her up into the vehicle. "Let Chuck take care of it. I have my own life to live," he said, unconcerned about his friend. "He has already taken the girl who was supposed to be my wife. I think I have done him enough service for one lifetime." And then he raised Vanessa's hand to his lips. "Ms Abrams, will you marry a gentleman with an empty title and no money, to face a life with disapproving parents who will likely forever despise you? I shall endeavor to defend you at every turn, but there will always be those that will escape me."

Vanessa could not remove the large smile that now broke her face. "I will if you will marry a woman who will likely forever ask you to take a job." He wrinkled his nose at the thought, because the lords of the Archibald family never worked apart from keeping up the estate. "Lord Charles has businesses and investments. I know gentlemen work."

"As long as you will not make me work in the pub," he muttered. "And you cannot work in the pub either."

"We will die poor and hungry!" she mourned.

Nathaniel pulled her against him, and she laid her head on his shoulder, not unlike where she was when he woke her up. "I shall ask help from Chuck," he managed. It had always been a possibility, but he never took any of the possibilities that his friend offered. "He had told me about an investment he will make in America, and has mentioned that I can manage the operations from there."

Vanessa's eyes widened. "You will leave London society?"

He shrugged. "If it is the way to earn enough," he told her.

"That is a great sacrifice, my lord," she said, knowing how Nathaniel was the continent and old money personified. "Mr Archibald," she said, dropping the title to test it for America.

"From you, I need a sacrifice if you will become Mrs Archibald." She cocked her head. "You must stop working. You will be occupied making little Archibalds."

Vanessa laughed. "We shall see." The odd concept of the dandy working while she, the common woman, sat at home and hearth barefoot and pregnant was one thing she had not considered. And despite the fact that it sat ill with her to allow it, she found it a tad tempting to observe. "We shall see if you are any good at work. And if we find that you are draining Lord Charles' capital with ineptness, I shall take the wheel but you can be the masthead. You shall make a pretty masthead, Mr Archibald."

~o~o~o~o~o~

"Darling," Lady Catherine greeted. She raised her hand, and Marcus gave her stepmother a slight smile ad kissed her knuckles. "And little Emma, no longer little. Such a young woman now." She kissed Emma's cheeks. "Very soon, Emma, you will be the toast of the ton, an original."

Emma blushed. "I cannot wait, my lady!"

Lady Catherine patted her cheek. "The gentlemen will fight over you. We just need to put more meat on your bones." Her gaze fell to Emma's chest. "Wait, tell me again, Emma, how old are you now?"

"Fifteen."

"Oh." Catherine's face fell, and then she brightened. "I am certain you will blossom by next year."

Emma threw a worried look at her uncle. Marcus cleared his throat. "My lady, we are here for the gathering."

"Oh of course, of course." Catherine led the way to the living area and threw open the door to reveal several older lords and ladies from the ton milling about. "Here they are," she announced. "Lord Pembroke and Lady Emma Beaton."

Marcus looked around in confusion as he noted none of his generation present, or at least any of his brother's old friends. "Your friends, my lady?" he inquired.

"Yes. They have come to share my grief in remembering your dear brother."

The earl placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. "None of these people have met John."

"Oh that is just silly," Catherine told him. She pointed to the pair of gentlemen swilling port by the fireplace. "There are Lord Adams and Baronet Schmidt. Their sons went to school with John, and they met him when John graduated." She then picked up a glass of wine, and gestured with it towards a group of women by the window. "And those are Lady Castlemaigne and her friends Mrs Roberts and Kitty Addison. They know everybody."

To Marcus, it sounded like another description for being busybodies.

"Here." She led them to a distinguished older lady. "Lady Danvers, you have met Marcus and Emma?"

Lady Danvers turned to the two and nodded. "Yes, yes! I saw this one," Lady Danvers nodded towards Emma, "when she was but a babe. We have not seen Lord Marcus for so long. Why do you not visit London anymore, my lord?"

"I am a country gentleman, my lady," Lord Marcus told her.

"Well, do not let this one turn into such a country girl. She needs some sophistication to be a good debutante. What will she learn from farmers and fishermen?"

"Oh." Emma stood up straighter, the way Beatrice had taught her. "My lady, I assure you I am getting a proper education from my teacher. She's from France," Emma claimed proudly.

"You speak French now?"

"Mais oui," she answered smoothly.

"Well," Lady Danvers said, impressed, "I am pleased your uncle is ensuring your education. I am certain your father would have been so proud."

Beside them stopped Lady Castlemaigne, who had picked up a plate of scones. She turned to Lady Danvers, and then squinted at Emma. "Is that young Emma Beaton?"

"Yes, my lady," Emma answered.

"Oh poor child!" Lady Castlemaigne took Emma in her arms and gave her an embrace. "To have lost your father so soon. And he was taken so young too."

And where Lady Castlemaigne went, so did Mrs Roberts and Kitty Addison. Mrs Roberts said, once Lady Castlemaigne released Emma. "Speaking of untimely deaths like that, did you hear the latest one? Mr Cooper, that gentleman banker who arrived from Pennsylvania a week ago. Shot dead at the docks two days ago."

"Oh! They say he left Miss Dandridge pregnant," Kitty shared.

Emma's eyes widened. Marcus turned to his niece and advised, "Go on to your room, Emma. The day grows late."

Obediently, Emma curtsied and hurried away.

"And did you hear about Lord Liam Abbott's fatal accident?" Lady Castlemaigne asked.

Marcus found the conversation growing morbid, and so he was about to excuse himself. But then, the next words made him stop.

"It was a murder on the highway," Kitty added. "I do declare, too many people seem to perish there. Do you remember the tragic accident that claimed Lord Hartington's wife six months ago? Imagine being on your way to the country to have your carriage fall off into the water like that?"

"On the road to Hartington?" Marcus interrupted.

The women looked up at him with surprise, as if they had forgotten his presence. "Yes. Right after their wedding. For the life of me I cannot imagine why she was traveling without him so soon."

Mrs Roberts leaned closer, then dropped her voice. "Well my kitchen maid learned from a chambermaid in Lord Hartington's townhouse that apparently, the late marchioness was carrying and starting to show even before the wedding. And rumors abound about the illness starting as soon as the day they arrived in London."

Catherine sighed. "Well no one will ever know," Lady Castlemaigne said. "Thankfully for her, she avoided more scandal by flying off a cliff. If she had not, she would probably be giving birth right around now."

Marcus sucked in his breath.

"They said a piano arrived in Lord Hartington's home the day she died."

"Poor girl," Catherine commented. "If you think of it, she did not get to spend any time at all as Lord Charles' wife. John was earl for two years, was he not, Marcus? Still too short a time."

But Kitty Addison remained fascinated with her topic. With a grin, she told Catherine. "From what everyone said, the French girl spent enough time as Lord Hartington's wife while they were in Tuscany."

Beatrice.

Lord Charles' breathless exclamation, the way he was reluctant to look her in the eye, even the way he watched her. To Marcus it had seemed like an infatuation brought about by a reminder, but now, it seemed like the women around him were forcing puzzle pieces into place, when he did not even want to view the picture it presented.

_E quand'io vi son presso, i' sento Amore, _ Lord Charles had said over the dinner table. When I am near you, I feel love. Marcus had understood and translated it for Beatrice.

Still, it was possible that it was all coincidence, and this was nothing but his brain playing tricks with him. Perhaps it was mere chance and Beatrice was someone else. He prayed for that, selfishly it seemed. If she were Lady Hartington, then her search would have ended and it seemed her husband still longed for her. If she were not, then perhaps, one day, she would give up the search and remain. For Emma.

"I need to see a portrait," he managed.

Lady Catherine looked at him askance. "Of your brother? In the hallway upstairs."

"No, my lady," he answered. "The marchioness of Hartington. I wish to see a portrait."

Catherine frowned, then shook her head. "Where will we find a portrait of Lady Blair?"

Marcus licked his lips, then said, "Give me the address of the marquis' townhouse."

~o~o~o~o~o~

Her entire body ached. That was the first sensation that she felt when she came into consciousness. She opened her eyes and her vision remained foggy and surreal. She drew a deep breath, then another. Slowly, her focus returned and she saw the figure sitting on a wooden rocking chair by the window.

Against the sunlight, it was a silhouette. The chair rocked and figure moved. She realized it was a man, and he was holding something close to his heart. And then she heard the soft voice singing. "I sent thee late a rosy wreath not so much honoring thee, as giving it hope that there it could not withered be."

And it was as if she was having a waking dream, that faceless man who made her heart jump at his presence, at the sound of his voice. He was here, right there a few yards away. Her hand fell on her stomach, and she noticed the lack. She sucked in her breath.

The audible gasp alerted him to her wakefulness and he stood. Her lips parted and her heart thundered. She was about to see his face. Once he stepped out of the light, she would see his face. She held her breath, because this was the moment when the dream ended and she woke remembering her heart rising for a faceless man.

The first that she noticed was the child that he held. Suddenly, she grew scared and panicked at the prospect, and she closed her eyes tightly, afraid that in this dream she would see him then lose him almost immediately by waking. This was by far the cruelest visitor to her sleep, because she felt the bed dip and she knew he was beside her.

"Open your eyes," he urged, and she thought he almost sounded like the man she kissed. "Meet your son."

Slowly, her eyes opened, and her lashes were wet with tears. She kept her eyes trained on the child, because in the dream, she was supposed to experience all that was amazing except for him. And when she looked at the face of the little human being that almost ripped her body apart, she could not help the tears from raining down her cheeks. With a stifled sob, she recognized those brows, the strong jaw. When her son opened his eyes, she drowned in those familiar narrow eyes.

"Chuck," she breathed.

"Yes?" he said, his throat tightened in watching Blair study their son. And then he realized what she had said, and he held his breath. Beatrice had only ever called him by his title, or Lord Charles.

She raised tearful eyes at him. "He looks like you, my lord."

And he had not once cried, not even in those mournful moments when he had thought her dead. Now, his nostrils flared at the effort to keep his tears at bay, in vain. "Blair?" he choked out, gazing down at her as she lay on the bed that had only hours before been soaked with her blood. His entire body trembled. He laid the child down beside her on the bed, then picked up her hand. When she smiled at him, it was as if his world stopped. He raised her hand to his lips, then breathed in deep.

She nuzzled her nose against her son's cheek. And then she looked up at Chuck and said, "Like butterfly wings." In response, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Help me sit. Hold the baby. I want to feed him."

"I have sent for a wet nurse," he told her in his hoarse voice. "You are too weak to let him suckle."

When she struggled to sit up on her own, he sighed and helped her. And then, he waited until she loosened the ribbons of her gown. He swallowed when she bared her shoulder and her breast, and he helped her guide their son's mouth. The baby latched onto the nipple fiercely, and Blair gasped at the initial pain.

And he watched, mesmerized, as his son fed from Blair. He whispered, "How?"

"I don't know faces, or names, but I remember feelings," she reminded him. "I remember the music. You've sung for me before. I cannot explain."

His throat worked, and she could see the veins throbbing in his temples as he squeezed his eyes shut. And then, he opened his eyes and looked up at her.

"I do not remember everything, my lord. Some things are clearer, and some are not."

"We will find a way," he vowed. "I will help you remember everything."

"I do not care. I remember you. I have two men who I will always love. That is all I will ever need," she said. And she raised her lips to meet his as their son fed.

"What shall we name him?"

"I want to call him Charles Bass," she said decisively. "This way it will be harder to forget two Charles Basses." She laughed softly at the light that she could make of it.

He smiled. "Lord Charlie. I like it. And I want to name him after your father too," he said quietly. It was one of those memories that he hoped she would never recover, how their fathers were connected in an extreme and painful past. Then again, he needed to start this life with a clean slate, secrets opened. "Your father was Harold Gregory Waldorf."

She nodded. "Lord Charles Gregory Bass, are you not full yet?" she whispered into the infant's ear, causing him to suckle more fiercely. She smiled and leaned back against the pillows. Finding the incline too low for the child to feed, she sat up again. Wordlessly, Chuck stood and placed two more pillows behind her, allowing her to lean back comfortably.

She was about to fall asleep when she felt him take the now sleeping child from her arms and gather her dress up to cover her breast. Blair smiled and murmured her thank you. Chuck placed the baby beside her on the bed.

"What if I crush him?" she protested sleepily.

"You will not," he assured her. "I will be watching." And then he took her hand and slipped on her missing ring. She bit her lip, recalling her nightmares of handing the very diamond to her dear companion. Dorota, she remembered now. Blair looked up at him and he slid the ring in place. "A promise is a promise," he told her.

"Je t'aime," she breathed as she sank slowly back into sleep.

tbc

AN: The name is also in honor of the sad childhood that Gregory had in Progeny. I think I should make it up to him.


	25. Chapter 25

Part 25

Like every new mother, Blair woke up with the paralyzing terror that some time during the night, she had rolled in her sleep and unwittingly crushed her baby. She opened her eyes with a start. She looked down beside her and saw little Charlie lying on his stomach. She released a sigh of relief. Then, tentatively, she reached out a hand and laid it on his back, allowing her to follow the steady breathing movement of the baby.

She counted to one hundred and Blair knew she would do this every day, like a ritual. People spent time on sillier rituals like brushing one's hair a hundred times before bed. This one seemed so natural to her that she knew it was something she would look forward to every morning.

On some days maybe she would count two hundred breaths.

She did not notice anything amiss at first. After a brief delay, her mind focused on the man sleeping on the opposite side of the bed. The marquis had fallen asleep when he had promised he would watch, and she could not blame him. He had been standing guard since Charlie was born. She had been told by the chambermaid that Lord Charles had even given Charlie his first bath. That he had stayed awake so long was a surprise.

This felt right. With Charlie asleep between them in bed, Blair could almost imagine that they were going to be a family. With the same hand that she used to count the baby's breaths, she reached up to touch the marquis' cheek, then traced a finger down the line of his jaw. Blair brushed her thumb across his lower lip.

The memory visited her like a flash of lighting, and she gasped at its assault. Blair's eyes closed to experience it in full.

_His lips opened underneath hers, and they parted. Blair found herself under the onslaught of his mouth, and then his tongue. He tasted like scotch, or what she remembered of scotch when she sipped her father's drink once upon a time. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed away. "Thank you for the experience," she breathed against his lips. "Now if you will excuse me, my lord." _

"_Enchanté__ ," he murmured. His nostrils flared. Reluctantly, he helped her onto the phaeton. "Leave me something at least, to remember you by."_

When she opened her eyes, his were looking back at her. "You drink scotch."

"It is my poison of choice," he answered smoothly. "Why?"

She gave him a bright smile. "You tasted like scotch the first time we kissed."

He recognized the admission for what it was, and was elated that there were memories to fill in the blanks. Marcus' doctor was correct. She needed time to recover from that horrible night. With the right people, the right environment, her mind would no longer be closed off in fear. She would begin to remember. Chuck returned the smile and sat up, then leaned over the baby to give her a kiss.

Between them, Charlie let out a piercing howl. Chuck pulled away from Blair and winced. "For such a little man, his scream is like bloody glass shattering," he commented, then dropped a kiss on her shoulder. He picked up Charlie and rocked him against his chest.

"Chuck," she pleaded, "please limit yourself to nicer language in front of the child."

"Yes, my lady," he answered with a grin.

When the baby started nuzzling the front of his father's shirt, Blair laughed softly. "As wonderful a father as I am certain you shall be, my love, you cannot provide what your son needs right now." Blair undid the ribbons of her dress and pushed the sleeve and the front down.

Chuck stared in fascination as Blair drew out a heavy breast. With the baby in his hands, he drew closer to her on the bed and placed the screaming baby in his mother's arms. When Charlie started suckling, Chuck placed an arm around Blair's shoulders, then drew her towards him to lean. He pressed his lips on her temple and shut his eyes tightly.

"The doctor is coming here today to check on you. The midwife did a fine job, but I would like the doctor to tell us when you will be well enough to go to London."

She appeared concerned when she looked up at him. "I do not wish to go," she told him. "It is so beautiful here. Charlie was born in this bed." And then she grew teary.

"What is it, my love?"

She sniffled. As if noting his mother's mood, Charlie started crying. "Hush, baby," she said softly into his ear. Blair maneuvered the infant to burp him. She placed him on her shoulder, then patted the back gently. "Stop crying, Charlie," she pleaded. She rocked the baby, then threw an anxious look at Chuck. "He is full. He should not be upset."

Chuck took the screaming baby from Blair. Promptly, crying and having had to chance to burp, the baby threw up the milk. At the sight of the milk, and the tumult of Charlie's unstoppable screaming, Blair covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Chuck took the baby outside.

He returned without Charlie, and it was the first time he had handed the child over to its nanny since it was born. He had sworn he would return for the boy at once. Chuck unbuttoned his soiled shirt and tossed it onto a chair. He shrugged on a new one. Then, he sat beside Blair.

Before he could ask again, she clutched at his shirt and sobbed, "London will take you away. I know it."

He saw a more real terror in her eyes this time. "When we first came home from Italy, you had also been nervous about the city. You were afraid to be left penniless and alone," he told her. "But it would never happen, Blair. Do you know what we did? We went to my father's solicitor and made certain your funds are in your name, never in mine."

And then she asked, "Was I ever so shallow, my lord, to think money was sufficient assurance against losing my husband?"

"There was never a time when I would have left you. The deal we made was merely that—a deal."

"How is it then, my lord, that you have come to lose me?" And to that, he had no answer. Chuck's face shuttered. Blair bit her lower lip. "I am sorry, my lord. You have only been so good to me. I have no right to be like this."

He shook his head. "You were to be afraid of London. We were happy in Tuscany, Blair. But it was not London that ruined us. It was that we fell in love so fast we did not have a chance to trust and be secure with each other." Chuck took her hand. "I think would have been happy if you never learned this. But then again, it would always be afraid that one night, you will remember part of it in your dreams and I would wake up to a wife who doubts me."

"Never," she whispered.

He smiled, half in disbelief. "I had a mistress," he stated simply.

Her lips parted. "While we were married?"

He gave her a half sad lopsided smirk. "We were married but a few hours before you disappeared."

"No," she said confidently. "In my heart I was married from the day I stood with you in Santa Maria del Fiore. That is the wedding I remember. That is when my marriage to you began."

"I would prefer that," he said softly.

"Good. And I never once thought you a virgin the night we met," she claimed playfully.

"Blair, I was hiding a secret from you when we met. As much as I can, I will make sure there would be no threat hanging above us of any secret that can spill and cause you hurt."

"What are you saying?"

"I was always insecure about Nathaniel."

Blair giggled, and Chuck arched his eyebrows. "Why?"

And there was no lingering sadness in her eyes, no trace of confusion, or discomfort. When she had first seen him in Marcus' manor, she had kept glancing back at him as if trying to place him in her blank mind. Even as Beatrice, with no memory of him, he could tell. She knew him. The heavy weight he did not know he still had lifted at the reaction she had.

Chuck smiled. "Let me tell you about this arrogant gentleman from England, who promised his friend Nathaniel that he would take Nate's bride home. Now this gentleman had no care, no plans for marriage, and only had a mind for business, for fun, and for an occasional romp in the sack with his mistress."

Blair leaned against Chuck as she listened. "This will be unfit for a child's ears," she murmured. "I was going to ask them to bring Charlie in. I miss him."

Chuck rose from the bed. "I am Charlie's father. He is bound to learn all this sooner or later. Let him hear it now," he teased. He returned with a sleeping baby, then moved to Blair's side of the bed to lay the child on his stomach, right by Blair's breast. "Let him hear your heartbeat drowning out the story of his father's deceit."

"I was engaged to Nathaniel?" she asked, lightly.

Chuck made his way to the opposite side of the bed and lay next to Blair. "Yes, you were."

"It already sounds complicated," she said.

"Just wait." He dropped a kiss on her nose. "I have not even begun."

~o~o~o~o~o~

Two letters.

That was all it came down to. Serena van der Woodsen looked down at the folded pieces of paper that had been brought into her room. She recognized the handwriting on both. One of those letters likely called the attention of the entire house. She could almost feel the palpable titter throughout the duke's home. Any moment now, the duke and the duchess would come to inquire about the letter that was obviously from the marquis. Ever since the day he stopped denying that his wife was forever lost, the Bass family had watched Lord Charles decline to a barely recognizable figure of a man.

And that other letter. Scrawled so hastily she wondered what Nathaniel was about that he could not be bothered to script neatly. Her hand reached for it, then abruptly change course and she took Chuck's letter instead. If her stepbrother addressed it to her, then it was meant for her. She would judge later if the parents needed to know.

She broke the wax seal that bore the Hartington insignia and knew at once that her stepbrother had gone to the country estate. What she wondered about was why he could not inform anyone beforehand.

_My lovely sister,_

_I wish, foremost, to apologize for any behavior from my part in the last few months that have caused you pain or discomfort or anxiety. I was in a place so dark I could not see my actions for what they were. But I have pushed you away enough to know you have no reason to jump at a favor I would ask._

_Yet a man must know how to gamble when warranted, and I would wager that you, as beautiful as you are, would forgive me and grant me this simple request._

_I am in need of your presence in the Palace. There is not enough words to convey all that has happened, what I need and why. Suffice to say, Serena—it's Blair._

_If you can come, I will be in your debt forever._

_Your brother,_

_Chuck_

Serena released a breath as she folded the letter and placed it on her vanity dresser. She sat on the edge of the bed, looked out the window and sighed. She had hoped, for so long, and even prayed when she could, that Chuck would one day wake up from his perpetual inebriation and he would see the world outside the way Serena saw it.

It was a life too wonderful to waste on grief.

Yet two words on that letter stood out, and she knew her prayers were unanswered. An abrupt absence and months without any communication to his entire family and it all ended with two words. It's Blair. She took a deep breath. How does one purge a dead woman from a loved one's head?

Her gaze fell upon the other taunting letter, then read through it. "Splendid," she muttered.

_Miss van der Woodsen,_

_It is with unending shame that I must break off my engagement with you. I have come to the conclusion that a man must take the path that makes him happiest. And I do so today._

_I shall endeavor to clear this mess and claim all fault for this myself. _

_Yours,_

_Nathaniel Archibald_

She set the letter aside and, despite noting that whatever explanation Nathaniel came up with she would be the one to bear the brunt of the scandal for having been left by her fiancé, focused on the letter that would send the duke and duchess in a frenzy of motion. As expected, she heard the knock on the door and turned.

"Come in."

The door swung open and in walked Lilly, dressed in a plain rose daydress, holding a matching handkerchief in her hand. "My dear, I hear that you have received a note from Lord Charles."

Serena looked at her mother sideways. "I did."

Lilly smiled and waited patiently. When Serena did not expound, Lilly placed a hand on her daughter's need. "How is he?"

"He asks for my presence in the country," Serena admitted. "And I will go, if only to shake sense into him. For God's sake, he acts as if he is unwilling to rise from this."

Lilly leaned her head to the side, confused at her daughter's response. The passion, the reaction, seemed too much for what little she could glean. She saw the letter on the vanity. "May I?"

Serena looked at where Lilly gestured. "That is not from Chuck. This is a note from Lord Nathaniel breaking off our engagement."

Lilly gasped. "Oh my dear I am so sorry." She squeezed her daughter's knee. "Is that where all this anger is coming from?"

Serena's pitch rose as she denied it. "Absolutely not! It is but an inconvenience, what Nathaniel has done. I have never sought to marry him."

"Then what is it, darling?"

But she refused to let her mother know. She was Serena van der Woodsen. It was true. She did not have a title, but the London ton adored her. Old crones like Lady Castlemaigne kept her eyes open for prospects for Serena. She had more fortune than half the other debutantes. With her hair down, clothed in the best that the duke could afford, she was proclaimed an Original.

Out of luck secretaries deciding to stop an illicit affair with her… It was too ridiculous of a notion to be affected by it.

Serena huffed. "I do not understand why it is taking so long for my brother to live his life again."

The duchess' forehead creased. She pulled Serena to her arms and kissed her hair. She had not done it for so long that Serena stiffened in her arms, then burrowed deeper only after a few seconds. "Do you know how long I grieved for your father?" Serena shook her head. "I cried in bed for a year. And for five years after that, I still found myself waking up and imagining that he was lying in bed next to me." Serena pulled away from the embrace and watched as Lilly's eyes filled with tears. "I cannot tell you how it felt in that split second when I remember why the bed was empty."

"Mother, you and father were together for years," Serena emphasized. "Chuck and Blair were not even together for a year."

The duchess gave her daughter a sad smile, then cupped her cheek. "Do you believe that grief is measurable in days or even years?" Lilly asked. Without waiting for a response, she asked another question in an even softer voice, "Do you believe love is?" Serena frowned at her mother. "Darling, you are so so young. I do not ever wish mine or Charles' pain on you. Ever. But I fear without experiencing it, you will never comprehend what I mean."

Lilly stood, then declared, "The duke and I will be coming with you to the country. It is well and good that he wishes you to come. But your stepbrother needs to be surrounded by people who know what he feels."

"The duke?" Serena repeated uncertainly.

"There was another duchess before me, Serena," Lilly reminded her daughter. "He may well understand Charles more than even I."

And when Lilly turned her back to leave the room, Serena blurted. "I have hurt, mother."

Lilly turned her head, then assessed her daughter, then nodded. "It only means you are well on your way to experiencing love, Serena."

~o~o~o~o~o~

"London is a series of bad memories," he said. She lay with her head pillowed on his arm, with their son sleeping on her breast. Blair yawned. "But let us reserve that for another time."

"Why am I sleepy?" she complained. "We have only just woken up."

"Your body is healing from childbirth," he told her. "Do not rush yourself."

She nodded, then buried her face in his chest. "Pity that I have your arm caught underneath me," Blair whispered. "You will be forced to nap with me. And then we need to wake up for lunch."

Any other woman and he would have rolled off the bed and be about. But he was lying with his wife and their son, and there was no other place worth trading this with. "I have sent for a friend of yours. She will help you remember your fonder memories of London," he told her, thinking of the fast friendship Serena had shared with Blair. London had not been his best moment. He had left her mostly to her own devices as he tried to get back to the rhythm of his life before Blair.

Blair smiled, wondering what the friend would look like and who it would be. No happy memories with him in London? How could that have been possible?

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

"_I believe the lady wishes to give you the news herself."_

_Chuck turned to his fiancé and held his breath. And it was then that she gave him her brilliant smile. She cupped his face, then pulled him down for a kiss. And then, she breathed against his lips, "We are with child, my lord."_

_The worry vanished from his eyes, and it was as if a wave of light washed over him. He cleared his throat and smiled. "My God," he murmured. "A child?" he said in wonder. His eyes fell to her belly covered by the blanket. He placed a tentative hand on it and drew a deep breath. _

_He looked up at her and saw her smiling down at him with tears in her eyes. Chuck leaned down and placed a kiss right above her womb, where even then their child slept. Her fingers buried in his hair. "Have I made you happy, my love?" she asked softly. "Tell me I have and all the sickness will be worth it."_

_He moved over to sit by her, and then kissed her lips. "All the happiest moments of my life you have given me, Blair. I do not remember any time before you."_

Chuck watched as she smiled in her sleep, and hoped that she could at least find fonder memories of him. Because it was still too soon for him to sleep, and he was unwilling to leave the bed, Chuck found himself staring at Charlie's small back rise and fall. Chuck's lips curved.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…

Three hundred forty eight. Forty nine…

The next thing he knew, he was waking up to the sensation of a kiss. Chuck opened his eyes and saw his wife leaning over his sleeping form, her dark hair falling on either side of her face. "Wake up, sleepyhead," she said softly. "It's lunchtime."

He smiled back, then yawned. "Where's Charlie?" For the life of him, he had never once thought the day would come when his first waking words were about an infant.

Blair moved her head towards the side of the bed in a gesture towards the baby. Chuck turned his head to find the child still asleep on the bed. "Come, papa," she enjoined, and Chuck's heart warmed at the term. That was what his son would call him. "Have lunch with maman before Charlie wakes to demand his lunch."

~o~o~o~o~o~

Serena donned a dark cloak and then made her way towards the waiting Bass carriage. Behind her she heard the door open once more, and knew it was the duke and duchess. When Lilly informed Bartholomew of Lord Charles' request to have Serena come to Hartington, he had, as Lilly expected, at once decided that he would come along.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw Daniel Humphrey leaning against the vehicle. His crutches were placed beside him. Serena turned around and glanced at her mother. Lilly nodded at her.

"Mr Humphrey!" Bartholomew greeted. "You have business with my daughter?"

"It is a personal matter, your grace," Daniel answered.

Serena walked towards Daniel. In the corner of her eye she noted that Lilly had encouraged the duke to get into the carriage with her. Idly, she heard, "Why would Daniel Humphrey have matters to discuss with Serena?"

"What are you doing here?" Serena demanded.

Daniel sighed, then picked up his crutches and hobbled towards the steps, so they could be some distance from where her parents were. "I heard rumors of a blonde lord carrying off a pub waitress to Gretna Green."

Serena straightened. She had suspected there was a reason behind Nathaniel's sudden decision. He had already once claimed he would chase Blair Waldorf, but never officially broke off his engagement with Serena. This was the first time he had enough courage to put his decision in writing. "How would you know about that?"

"I was at the pub when the driver of the hackney Nathaniel hired stumbled in for a drink and his loud chatter." He looked down at the ground. "I knew I had to find you. I have to know you are fine."

Serena gave a grim smile. "Of all the people in the world, you should know how much Nathaniel's decision would not hurt me." She glanced up towards her mother. "Is this all?" He did not answer, but gave her a longing look. He reached for her hand. "I do have to leave, Daniel." She pulled her hand away and walked towards the carriage.

As she was about to get in, he called out, "Serena, wait"

Serena looked back at him sadly."Some things are more important than waiting for you, Daniel."

tbc


	26. Chapter 26

Part 26

She lifted the small tunic nightgown up and frowned. Blair ran her fingers through the material, rubbed them together and inspected it closely in the light.

"It is as if you were choosing diamonds," Chuck commented wryly as he leaned against the doorframe. He watched the marchioness rifle through the small collection of infant's clothes that the butler had managed to procure from various shops in the town. "And you look as if you are sorely disappointed."

Blair groaned, then laid the piece of clothing on the table. She thrust out her lower lip as she spoke to Charlie, who she had laid down on his back beside her on the settee. "I am sorely sorry, sweeting," she said to the child. "It appears that you will not be the most finely dressed child in Christendom."

The marquis chuckled as he entered the salon. He glanced at the selection. As expected, the material was inexpensive and almost coarse, as the shop pandered to the masses of the town. In fact, even her own clothing that she had taken with her from Pembroke left much to be desired. With every memory that returned to her, Blair's taste in clothes rose exponentially.

She turned to her husband. "Your son and I look like commoners beside you, my lord," she pointed out.

And with every memory, she gained confidence in speaking to him. In fact, she spoke her mind more now than she ever had the first time they were in London. Chuck suspected that she had subconsciously decided that nothing she could say would make him leave her.

"I shall send for your own clothing. You have the best garments not just in Christendom but all the known universe," he assured her.

Her eyebrows rose. "And what of Charlie?"

He smirked. "We will have a tailor come to fit Charlie like a prince." Chuck turned to her. "Is that satisfactory to you, my lady?"

Blair grinned, then dropped a kiss on her husband's nose. "Yes," she answered. "I was afraid I would have to call for one myself if you did not catch my subtle hints."

Chuck laughed softly and shook his head. "There was no subtlety or hinting done here today, madame."

Blair laughed in return, then took Charlie in her arms. "Now that we have finagled what we want from papa, we are going out for a walk under the morning sun. They say it's good for the child." With the baby in one arm, Blair raised her hand for her husband to help her up. "Will you join us, my lord?"

"Nothing would please me more," he responded smoothly.

It was lazy like any morning walk. The sunlight was soft against their skin, but Blair still kept a light blanket around Charlie. Beside her, Chuck fell into the same pace that she used. "How long can you walk for?" he asked.

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "Are you asking me if I am yet too tender?"

He arched an eyebrow. "You put words in my mouth."

She turned her face up towards him. "I am tender yet," she said softly. "But I can walk for a half hour each morning," Blair said, relaying the message from her doctor. "And do not think I did not ask. He was quite surprised at my inquiry."

His eyes warmed. "What did he say?"

Blair pulled him head down for a brief kiss. "Give me twelve weeks, my love," she whispered against his cheek.

"That is an eternity," he groaned.

He looked up at the noise, and Blair turned around. A handsome carriage pulled up to the gates, one that Chuck recognized as his father's. Of course. Bartholomew Bass would have his own vehicle take his stepdaughter to the country. Chuck placed his hand on the small of her back in a protective gesture. Invited or not, Serena van der Woodsen was part of their past in London, most of which were unpleasant to Blair.

Serena alighted from the carriage wearing her dark cloak. Blair frowned, then held her son closer to her body. And then Serena dropped her hood and lifted her gaze to her brother, then turned and saw the woman standing beside him.

"Blair?" she mouthed. And then, Serena threw a confused look towards her brother, who merely smiled. "Blair!" Serena broke into a run towards the couple. "Blair!"

Blair sucked in her breath at surprise. The young woman barreled towards them, it seemed with the full intention of wrapping her in an embrace. When she was closer, Blair held her away with an outstretched arm. "Stop," she commanded, her voice calm. "Stop lest you suffocate my son."

Serena stopped still and turned her attention to the small bundle in the other woman's arms that she had not noticed in her haste. "Oh," she exclaimed reverently. She stepped forward and looked down at the bundle, then touched the cloth to see the baby's face. "He is a replica of his father." She looked up at Blair once more, then at Chuck in amazement. "How?"

Chuck smirked. "Blair, come meet my lovely sister Serena."

Serena stepped back in shock. "Blair knows who I am, Chuck." When she turned to Blair, and saw the curious look in those dark eyes, Serena frowned. "You do not remember me?" Blair shook her head. "That is terrible!"

"I remember your brother," Blair offered. "That is good enough for me."

Serena's eyes fell to the baby in Blair's arms. "I suppose it is." In her excitement, she turned around to the two more occupants of the vehicle, and waved them over. "Come, your graces!" she invited.

Chuck looked up stunned to see the duke and duchess walking down the path towards his family. Immediately he took Blair's arm and turned her to him. "My love, please go inside the house."

"What?" she asked. "Are they not your parents? Did you not wish for them to meet Charlie?"

He placed his hand over hers where she held on to their son. "Trust me."

Blair nodded, then turned her back on Serena and proceeded to the house. He watched her until the door closed behind her. And then he turned back to his stepsister. "I thought my letter was clear enough. I was inviting you."

Lilly spoke for her daughter. "And Serena did not invite us. Your father wished to see you." And then she asked, clearly having been too far from them to recognize. Indeed, it would be hard to jump to the conclusion that it was Blair who spoke with Serena. "Who was that Charles?"

Chuck gave a curt nod to his father. "Your grace."

"Are you not going to open your house to me, Charles?"

Chuck licked his lips, then sighed. "Welcome to Hartington."

"Tell them, Chuck," Serena bubbled over.

When Chuck glanced back at his father, he noticed the appraising look that Bartholomew gave him. The duke said, "I was half afraid we would arrive to a half-dead inebriate. I am glad to see you healthy and content." And then, the duke stepped forward and pulled his son into his arms. "Is this what you needed, son? A moment of escape?"

"Father," Chuck began, his voice hoarse. "I must tell you something."

He pulled away from the duke, then straightened his stance. "Inside the house I have my family waiting," he told them quietly. "This is our small haven away from London. And I beg you not to bring with you anything that would disrupt our world."

"A family, Charles?" Lilly repeated in dismay. He had only just left London a few weeks before, and back then he was buried in his grief. She turned concerned eyes at her husband. "Is that not too hasty?" She prayed he had not been played by a widow saddled by children she could barely support. A grieving man was easy prey to opportunists. Bartholomew's friends had suspected her of the same when she brought two children into her marriage with the duke.

"Mother, just wait," Serena advised.

Bartholomew watched his son closely as Chuck made his way back to the house. The door opened and Chuck asked the butler, "Where is my lady?"

"My lord, she is waiting for you in the parlor with Lord Charlie."

"I will come in first," Chuck informed them. "I will send for you."

Lilly opened her mouth, but Bartholomew placed a hand on her arm to silence her.

"It will be alright, mother," Serena said.

"What is this?" Lilly said when Chuck left. "Who is this woman?" she worried. She looked at her husband. "Bart, you must step in. Your son cannot have an heir who is not of your blood."

The old man sighed. "Lilly—"

"You know why he's doing this," Lilly said. "I thought leaving him to grieve on his own would be good for him. But he cannot do this, Bart."

"Charles has always done what he wished to do."

"But he has never had to do it under the influence of grief."

Inside the parlor, Blair looked through the items of clothing for any fine enough to use. When the door opened, she whirled around, then breathed in relief when it was only Chuck who came in.

"What are you doing?"

Blair shook her head, and Chuck walked over to her in concern when he noted the flush on her cheeks. "I cannot find anything in this pile worthy enough to use," she said breathlessly,

Chuck noted the panic in her voice. "You do not need to dress him up."

"The duke and duchess are here. What will they think if they see your son dressed in such common garments?" She glared at him. "You should have told me they were coming."

"I did not know," he said softly.

"And you," she jabbed a finger into his chest, "should have been more prepared. I cannot believe that my son is going to be presented to his grandfather for the first time in something a little better than peasant's garb!"

"Peasant's garb?" He chuckled. "Blair—"

Her eyes narrowed. "Do not laugh at me," she warned him. "You should have been more prepared. Whether or not I remembered you, you knew you were going to have a child." She sighed. "You could have at least planned on giving him new clothes as a gift." Blair walked towards the baby and took him up to her arms.

"Blair, my family thought you dead," he began. "They had given up on my happiness. Do you think they would judge you and Charlie on your clothing?"

She stared back at him, and for the longest moment she was silent until he thought she would explode. But then, her face softened and she said, "I'm nervous."

He walked over to her and Charlie, then placed a kiss on her forehead. "If you do not wish to meet them now, I will send them on their way back."

She broke into a smile at the offer. "I shudder to think of their response to that."

He smiled. "I do not care."

"Send them in, my lord," she decided. "Your father deserves to meet his grandson."

Chuck's face fell. Of all the secrets that hounded them in London, this was the one he never knew how to break, had hesitated to tell her. But the presence of his son, and the knowledge that whatever happened, he would never let her go, was enough to assure him more than when they were new, finding their footing in a fresh commitment that they never expected. "Do not do it for my father," he told her. "Blair," Chuck took her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles, "your father perished in a duel against my father."

"What?"

"We only learned it before we were married," he admitted. His heart was racing. It was the very thing that had sent her scurrying away, into his friend's arms for comfort. She could easily walk away now, despite everything. It must have been a gift that she remembered nothing of her father, of the way she had been told he died, of being there to clean his wound, because instead of the anguish that was stark on her face when he found her after she first overheard the truth, she now tightened her jaw and took a breath. "It should change nothing between you and me." He cursed at himself for sounding as if he were pleading. Yet again, he continued, "I cannot lose you or Charlie over this." His voice broke.

She frowned. Finally, she asked, "Why would you?"

He released his breath and he almost melted in relief. "Blair—"

She cupped his cheek. "You and I, Chuck, we are more than the people around us, more than the place we choose to live." With her words came the realization that she had, as he, been stuck in the same rut. "You and I and Charlie, we can live anywhere in the world, with anyone in the world, be dressed in the ugliest clothes," she smiled wryly, "and we will always be a family."

He turned his head and placed a kiss in her palm. "I'll ask them to come in."

"Go. I'll put Charlie in one of his new tunics."

Carefully, Blair put the light blue shirt on her son as Chuck walked towards the door. She nodded at her husband when she was ready. Chuck opened the door and waved in their guests.

It was Serena who walked in at first, and gave her friend an encouraging smile. And then, Blair held her breath when the duke and duchess stepped inside.

"Father, your grace, I would like to present to you my son, Lord Charles Gregory Bass." Blair rose to hold her son up proudly. "And you have met my wife, of course. Blair, my parents."

"My God," the duke muttered.

Lilly held up a hand to her mouth.

"Lord Pembroke saved her from the man who abducted her. She is slowly recovering many of the memories that she has forgotten because of that night."

"It's a miracle," Lilly cried. She turned to her stepson and embraced him. "Oh Charles, I had been afraid you would never recover. This—"

"I know." Chuck returned the hug.

The duke walked over to Blair, and Chuck watched intently as Bartholomew stopped in front of his daughter-in-law. "May I?" he rasped. He looked down at his grandson's face. "He is the very image of Charles as a child."

Blair offered the baby to the duke. "Here, my lord. Charlie should know his grandfather." The duke swallowed and he hesitated. "I know, your grace. I will not presume to judge what only you and my father would ever understand."

"Blair, for what it's worth, I still carry the guilt of his death to this day," the duke confessed.

"Come, Lord Devonshire. Take your grandson."

Bartholomew took the youngest Bass in his arms and greeted, "Lord Charlie, are you ready for your heritage?" And then, the duke frowned. He turned to his son. "Charles, why not ask your maids to take your baby clothes from storage and air them out? Blair can probably pick some items for Charlie. They are very fine material and are preserved well."

Blair gasped. "Chuck!"

There was a swift knock on the door, and they turned to see the butler bow. "Jeremiah, just in time," Chuck greeted. "Will you ask Mrs Potter to take out my old baby clothes?"

Bartholomew chuckled. "Jeremiah."

"Your grace?"

"Have Mrs Potter prepare the clothes, as well as the crib, and Charles' toys. Is the rocking chair still here?"

"Lord Charles' entire nursery is still here in the last room of the left wing, your grace."

"Very well. Have her air it out as well."

Jeremiah nodded. Chuck glared at his butler, who he had thought was loyal to him. "You never thought to mention all this?"

The butler flushed. "My lord, Lord Marcus Beaton and Lady Emma are here to see you, and they appear rather urgent."

Blair turned to the butler and said, "Will you send them to the music room? I shall speak with them."

"They asked to speak with me," Chuck told her.

"But we both know that they are looking for me, my lord. We will cut the middleman."

"Blair—"

She smiled and walked over to her husband. Without hesitation, she pulled him down for a kiss, in front of his parents and his stepsister. "Do you think he can convince me to leave with him?" He shook his head. "Good. Now stay here with Charlie." She turned to Serena. "Lord Marcus is a wonderful man. Would you like to come with me?"

Serena stepped towards her friend and nodded. "I would."

tbc

Just one more chapter after this. Thank you for your amazing support.


	27. Chapter 27

Part 27

"The music room is through here," Blair said to the taller woman. She quickened her pace. The quicker she spoke to Marcus, the sooner she would return to her husband and her son. Halfway down the hall, she faltered in her step.

"What is it?" Serena asked in concern.

Blair turned around and looked up at the young woman whom she had been told was her friend. She could not remember the day they met, or the days they spent together. But the look that Serena gave her was recognizable. And so she admitted, "I am reluctant to go and end it with Lord Marcus."

Serena maintained her neutral expression. "Do you have to end it?"

"Chuck cannot want his wife to be so involved with another man."

"Would you ever want the earl over my brother?" Serena said softly.

Blair glared at Serena as if the blonde had gone daft. "That is preposterous!"

"You did say Lord Pembroke was a wonderful man," Serena reminded her.

"Who would choose Marcus Beaton when she has Chuck Bass?" Blair replied, matter-of-factly. Serena grinned. Blair sighed. "I would not be here if it were not for Marcus Beaton," she managed. "And Lady Emma—she is absolutely delightful. I have fallen in love with her."

"You do not have to cut them out of your life to be with Chuck," Serena advised.

Blair worried her lower lip. And then she took a deep breath, then decided, "I'm sorry. I thought I wanted someone else in the room," she began.

"Of course," Serena interjected. "Speak to them alone."

"Thank you."

Blair started to turn, but Serena caught her hand. "Blair," Serena told her, "thank you for coming home." Blair found herself wrapped in Serena's arms. Serena placed a kiss on each of her cheeks.

And so it was that Serena stayed outside the music room while her friend entered. "Good luck, B."

Blair stopped before closing the door behind her, then gave Serena a smile. "B? I like that." And then she closed the door.

She turned around to see Emma sitting in front of the piano, with Lord Marcus standing by the window, looking out as sunlight streamed in, leaving him as a silhouette to her eyes. If it were another life, and she was not Blair who had after one kiss been forever entwined with her husband, she would think this the perfect portrait of a family that she would love to have. Emma ran her fingers over the keys, then pressed one, two, then several in a high note that held. Blair had taught her once that one did not hold a note so long unless there would be lyrics afterwards. Music told a story, and the words merely served to impart a narrative.

The sound that came next was sad, haunting as it floated towards Blair. Upon hearing his niece play, Marcus turned around. When he did, he spotted her, and his lips parted.

Emma noticed the change, and she looked up. At once, she cried, "Beatrice!" Emma pushed out her stool and ran towards Blair, then wrapped her arms tightly around her beloved teacher.

"Emma," Blair greeted, and gave the girl as fierce an embrace that she received. "I'm so happy to see you."

"We were so worried!" the girl exclaimed. Emma's gaze fell on Blair's only slightly rounded belly. "What happened to your baby?" Emma gasped.

"You gave birth," Marcus stated. Blair glanced up, and knew, from the way he looked at her, that he had found out. "Here in Hartington."

"I did," she said with a smile. She had not expected the earl to look so sad, and so she turned her attention to the beaming girl in front of her. "You would like him, Emma."

"Oh I would love him!" Emma vowed.

"I named him Charlie," Blair said softly, and she noticed Marcus look away.

"Like Lord Charles?" the girl inquired. Blair nodded. "Because he helped you? Tell me he did. I wish I were here with you." And Blair remembered the times when Emma stopped playing their lesson and leaned over to whisper to her child.

"I know, darling." Blair pushed the girl's hair away from her face, and tucked a lock behind her ear. "But you can meet him now."

"Will you come home with us now, Beatrice?"

"Emma," Marcus called, his voice firm, "she cannot come with us."

"Why, uncle?"

Blair took the girl's hand, then shook her head at Marcus. Whatever had displeased him, it should not affect a child—never. "Emma, I will be staying here with Lord Hartington," she told the girl gently. "But I will visit you when I can. And you are free to visit with me as well."

"I thought you would be going home to France," Emma uttered. "Why can you not come with us if you are staying here anyway?"

Blair gave Emma a smile, and said, "Because my lord has found me."

Emma's eyes widened. "He did?"

"My name is Blair," she shared, "and Lord Charles is Charlie's father, my husband."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "I knew there was something odd about the marquis, the way he looked at you. I was very suspicious." She turned to look at her uncle. "You brought him home."

Blair walked over to Marcus and extended a hand. "I wish to thank you, my lord. Were it not for you, I would have died. If not for you, my husband would still be mourning me."

He placed a kiss on the proffered hand, then squeezed it in his hands. "And now you're happy?" Marcus inquired.

She beamed. "I am in heaven."

"Good," Marcus capitulated, his voice gruff. "That is all I could ever wish for you, Beat—Blair."

Outside the music room, Serena started at the noise coming from down the hallway, from the door. She rose, and remembered those last three times that such ruckus happened. First, it had been Vanessa, the waitress from the pub that Nathaniel had married. Second, it was Daniel arriving with news of Chuck's great escape with Nathaniel's intended. And last, and most horrid of all, was when Daniel arrived bleeding and near dead from a gunshot wound, on the night they all believed Blair to have perished.

She lifted her shirts and run towards the doorway.

And there he was, standing outside, on his crutches. A slight drizzle had started, and she saw his coat darkening with moisture.

"Daniel?"

"Serena!" he cried.

"You are going to catch a cold," she exclaimed, despite her new commitment to think not of Daniel foremost. And then Serena launched herself out into the light rain and then helped him inside the house. "What are you doing? How did you even get here?"

"I hired a hackney," he gasped. The man had charged him more than a month's worth of his salary with the duke. Given that he was now out of work, it was fortune. But he hoped to heaven it would be worth it. "I needed to be here."

And then she pulled away, her hair moist and lightly matted to her head. Serena looked down at lover as he collapsed into a chair. "Why?" she challenged.

Daniel leaned his crutches against the wall. He took a deep breath. "You wanted me to take a chance."

Her heart melted, because he looked so exhausted. All she wanted now was to take him in her arms. She wanted to take care of him. Instead, she said, "And are you ready to do it?"

Daniel set his jaw, then stood up. He did not reach for his crutches. Serena almost jumped towards him, but he waved her away. He limped towards the parlor, showing her how oddly he moved, how awkward he walked now. He glanced at her, and seemed to assess her reaction. He saw nothing but concern. He opened the door, and Serena followed close behind.

For the first time in his life, he sounded firm when he addressed his former employer. "Your grace, I would formally ask for Serena's hand in marriage."

Bartholomew, holding his grandson in his arms, growled at the interruption. He had only just been marveling at the small toes that were so soft against his nose. He recognized the man who had burst into the room. "Daniel Humphrey?"

Daniel almost buckled. "Yes, your grace."

"How do you propose to support her? She's an heiress, and you are unemployed."

"Your grace," Serena blurted.

Lilly held up her hand for silence. Serena turned angry eyes at her mother, but noticed the slight smile on her lips. Serena walked over to the duchess and waited.

Chuck walked over to his father so that he could take his son. Daniel noticed the child that the marquis now held, and appeared confused. But he focused on the duke instead.

"All you do now, if I hear correctly from your contemporaries in my house, is brood and drink in the pub."

"I was distraught, your grace. But I will work. I will take as many hours as I can. I will find work and work for days on end to support Serena." He took a deep breath. "And I know I cannot give her any of the luxuries that the gentlemen of the ton can give her." Serena's heart went out to him. "My body is broken and I have no fortune. But they cannot afford what I can give her—a love as great as what is here." He turned to Serena, who now stood beside Lilly, clutching the duchess' hand. "I know I have been unforgivable. But I am asking you for a miracle, Serena."

The duke turned to his stepdaughter. "Serena?"

Serena nodded, and tears fell from her eyes. "It's about time," she choked. And then she flew to the secretary's arms. "I hope this would be worth the wait."

Daniel wrapped his arms tightly around Serena.

At that moment, the door opened and Blair walked in with Emma in hand, and Marcus following closely behind.

Daniel released his new fiancé and stared at the ghost. "My lady?" he choked. The last time he had seen her he had been bleeding at the side of the road while she was dragged away against her will. And everyone had just known she was dead. He had carried the burden of having been unable to save her, all this time, as he battled with his own injury.

She turned around, and saw the man standing close to her friend. When Blair cocked her head in a sign that she did not know him, Serena added, "Blair, my fiancé Daniel. He was your escort that night."

"Oh." Her eyes flickered to his leg. "Chuck told me about your leg. I'm sorry."

Daniel shook his head. "It matters not. You are alive, my lady."

Blair stepped close, and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I know you tried." And then she turned in search of Charlie. At the sight of her husband holding her son, Blair broke into a smile. "Come along, Emma," Blair invited. "Lord Marcus."

Chuck walked towards them, and gave his wife a kiss. "Lady Emma," he greeted, "this is Charlie."

Emma grinned and greeted. "Allo, Lord Charlie. I'm your auntie Emma." She turned to smile up at his uncle. "And that frowning gentleman is Lord Marcus Beaton. If your father didn't come, he would have been your daddy."

Marcus coughed. Chuck handed the baby to Blair, then turned to Marcus. "Come, my lord. I have a snifter of fine brandy that we can share." He looked over at his secretary, who was still wrapped up in his stepsister. "Humphrey, join us. Let us toast your engagement."

Daniel shook his head. "I am endeavoring to stop drinking, my lord. I am to be married, and will need to be sober looking for a job."

"Drink some," the duke advised. "You did not think I would not give my son-in-law a proper, promising career?"

The hour men left the parlor to retreat to the Chuck's study, leaving the women with Charlie. Blair settled onto the settee with her son as the ladies moved to different seats in the room. The door opened and in walked Chuck. "What is it, my love?" asked Blair.

Chuck smirked. "The ladies in the parlor. The men in the study," he informed her, then bent to take Charlie from her. "No smoking. I promise."

Blair returned with a smile, "I like the sound of the word."

He dropped a kiss on her lips. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Epilogue

"Grand-mère," she called softly to the older woman sitting in the center of the small garden.

It had been a promise that Chuck had committed to when she first woke up with the memory of her Parisian home. Blair had risen one day and taken her son in her arms, smelled his skin, buried her nose in his hair. He sat up in bed and found his wife holding on to their son with tear-filled eyes.

"Maman," she had told him sadly. "I do not know how she is."

"Blair," he said carefully, uncertain now of how much she remembered, what was part of her dream. Part of him then had not wanted to remind her, but when she returned to him he had promised himself he would never hide any of their past—be it a good memory or not. He had learned it the harshest way possible. The past can threaten forever. "You bear ill feelings towards her."

She blinked up at him through a liquid sheen. "I will die if I ever woke and had no knowledge of Charlie." Blair closed her eyes and breathed in her baby's scent. "She had only ever wanted to be rid of me," she recalled. "But do you think there could be any other reason, for a mother to commit her daughter to a stranger so quickly?"

"I will not presume to understand what goes on in Eleanor Rose's head," he informed Blair. And then, because she needed it, he asked, "Do you wish to go?"

She had nodded. If it were true, that it was nothing but whimsy on the part of Eleanor that wished her only daughter married and away, then Blair at least wanted to move forward with her life knowing that she had reached out to her mother. And so they waited until Charlie was a full year old to take him across the Channel. It was the first long trip that her son would do, and Blair could think of no better purpose than to show her mother what she had become since the day that Eleanor Rose decided to give her hand to a stranger.

"Grand-mère," she repeated into the garden air.

Eleanor Rose slowly turned around, displeased at the disturbance. At the sight that greeted her, she stood abruptly and crossed herself. "Mon Dieu!" she gasped.

Chuck stepped forward and laid a hand on Blair's shoulder as a silent sign of his support. It was more for his wife than for the old woman, because Blair needed his presence there. "Lady Rose." He noted the black gown. When he had asked about Eleanor Rose the day before, when they touched land, he had received the image of a woman in mourning for nigh on a year. He wondered now if it were for news of Blair, or if it were for the bastard Aaron Rose. With a voice neutral, he said, "We have come to visit you with our son."

Eleanor's gaze flitted to Chuck, then back at the young woman who stood with him. She noted the young boy they brought with them. Eleanor shook her head. "My daughter," she breathed. "They told me you were dead. More than a year ago, they told me you had died. My heart was so broken."

"Oh maman."

"And then Lord Charles sent word that he had found you. But I knew you would never forgive me."

And it was with an unadulterated joy that his heart rose. At the very least, Eleanor Rose should grieve for a daughter who had always felt her mother push her away.

"I'm here, maman," Blair returned, her tears rising at the utter grief in her mother's voice. Never in her life had she imagined that her mother would mourn her like this, for this long. Then again, if anything happened to her son, Blair feared she would go mad. "I've come to show you my son. He's a beautiful strong boy."

Eleanor stumbled towards the small family. She stopped in front of her daughter, and drew Blair into her embrace. "My daughter. My lovely daughter." She covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm so sorry!"

Blair shook her head. "It is all well, maman. If not for you, I would have never married my lord. And I am happiest with him than I have ever been."

Eleanor turned to Chuck, then pulled the marquis into her arms as well. "Thank you, my lord, for bringing my daughter to me."

"It was Blair who wanted to see you, madame," Chuck replied. "And I would do anything that she wished." His voice brooked no doubts. His family was in France of his wife's choosing, not from some misplaced loyalty of sympathy for Lady Rose.

The old woman then turned and then hesitantly reached for Charlie. "Comment s'appelle-t-il?"

"Il s'apelle Charlie, maman. Il est mon fils," Blair said, the pride in her voice apparent.

Chuck restrained himself from taking the boy away, because Eleanor appeared to find such pleasure in his heir. "He is the image of your husband," Eleanor noted. "Not one drop of Waldorf in this one."

"Maman—" Blair started. She had lived her life under veiled criticism, and her son would never suffer through it.

Eleanor smiled. "He is beautiful." She placed a kiss on the child's forehead.

"Ganma," Charlie cooed, then reached for Eleanor's earring.

"What did he say?"

Chuck laughed. "He calls the duchess grandma."

"Oh!" Eleanor chortled in delight. "Oui, bébé. Je suis grand-mère. Et je t'aime plus que tout!" Blair's mother carried the baby into the house, leaving the couple in the garden. Blair watched as her mother lifted her son high up in the air, sending Charlie squealing in the air.

"Maman, non," Blair gasped.

"Oh but my grandson is a big brave boy, is he not?" Eleanor said in a fascinated manner.

Blair gave Chuck a smirk. "Did I not just win our little bet? My mother would ignore me after a good twenty minutes."

"You were at an unfair disadvantage, up against Charlie. Even my father cannot deny him. I wonder if Charlie would have the duke still wrapped around his little finger when the little Humphrey is born." And then he shook his head, an arrogant smirk on his lips. "No. Charlie would still have his grace under his tiny thumb."

She grinned playfully at her husband. "Yet there are moments when I win favor over Charlie," she teased.

"Only with me," he said, his voice dropping. "But you did win this bet, my love." Chuck pressed his body against hers.

"What did I win?" she said into his ear.

"I hope your old room is still free," he whispered. "Perhaps grand- mere will take Charlie for the night, and I can show you a proper Parisian night."

Blair's lips curved. "I can arrange that."

"It will be even better than our Tuscan nights," he said, his lips moving against the shell of her ear.

She shivered, because the memories of Tuscany had slowly returned to her over the months, and she had told him about a particularly delicious dream on the rooftop of the villa, overlooking Florence, with the stars emblazoned above them. "Do you promise?" she gasped, her body reacting to his voice.

"Always have, Blair." he told her. "I always will."

fin

Thank you, once again. It has been a lovely experience.


End file.
